


Two Steps Back, One Step Forward

by ivegotpurple



Series: Kakashi Time Travel AU [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But not always, Fake Science, Foreshadowing, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pining, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pre-Naruto Canon Era, Rare Pairings, Romance, Sharingan Discussions, Some Humor, Subtext, Suppressed Feelings, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, sometimes it'll have ordered chapters, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivegotpurple/pseuds/ivegotpurple
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles wherein a 20 year old Kakashi gets sent to the Founders Era, and Madara can't get over the "Senju" with a Sharingan. Posted originally on tumblr as @purple-possibilities. More information given with each chapter. They're not necessarily going to be in chronological order.





	1. I Know I Have Nothing To Fear (When I'm With You)

**Author's Note:**

> **If you don't want to read the A/N at least read the bold because it's relevant!**
> 
> **This takes places in an AU where a 20 year old Kakashi goes back in time, unintentionally fixes everything and gets Madara’s undivided attention. Izuna lives, Konoha is formed, and it’s been a few years since then. Other Hidden Villages are forming, and Konoha is trying to reach out to them (without the bijuu, because that’s dumb why would you do that???).**
> 
> So basically, I went looking for some MadaKaka and couldn't find any. Then I started thinking about how that would work, and came up with a couple of possibilities that I shared over on tumblr (so did [@kunoichi-ume](http://kunoichi-ume.tumblr.com), [@padlocked-quintus](http://padlocked-quintus.tumblr.com), and [@letliv3](http://letliv3.tumblr.com) when they heard about the newest crack ship). You can check it out on [my tumblr (@purple-possibilities)](http://purple-possibilities.tumblr.com) by searching for the tag #MadaKaka. Or go onto my side blog [@ivegotpurple](http://ivegotpurple.tumblr.com) where I reblog the stuff I write that gets posted to this account. Or go to the new MadaKaka blog, [@madakaka](http://madakaka.tumblr.com) to see things not just from me, but others as well. It's NSFW and has some very NSFW artwork, so be warned it's an 18+ space.
> 
>  [If you want more background information on why Kakashi is in the past with Madara, you will find it on tumblr; just click on this super long sentence.](http://purple-possibilities.tumblr.com/post/154931731989/padlocked-quintus-kunoichi-ume)
> 
> All this stuff is already on tumblr, but I thought I'd put it up on FF and AO3 to try and get people in on the MadaKaka ship (since it pretty much does not exist, and it totally should).
> 
>   **This was prompted by a comment left by letliv3 over on tumblr. It was attached to a picture of a wounded Madara, and reads:**
> 
> _Imagine Kakashi ending up in the past, with Madara and Hashirama and the gang. Kakashi's gotten everyone to get along/ Konoha has been formed and he and Madara are becoming closer. But one day Madara gets ambushed while he's already weak, maybe coming back from a mission. Kakashi can sense the battle from where he's at, because he's so in tune with Madara's chakra. Kakashi rushes to Madara's side in order to help, and to defend one of the people Kakashi considers to be a kindred spirit. Propelling himself from rooftop and tree branch, Kakashi eventually comes upon Madara, injured and backed into a corner. Madara sees Kakashi, and starts to chuckle in the faces of the many enemies that came after him. Leaning his head back, Madara smiles. One of the few shinobi that he trusts the most came to his aide. Seeing the fury in Kakashi's eye reminds him of his own fury when someone came after his family. The enemies around the Uchiha shift nervously, unsure of if their enemy has been holding back or if he's lost his mind, unaware of the deadly shinobi that has joined them._

The enemy ninja start disappearing one by one. They can't see Madara moving, but somehow the idea that someone else is there doesn't cross their minds. One gets brave, tries to attack Madara directly, only to end up with an arm though his chest, smelling of sulphur and hair standing on end. That's when they see Kakashi, covered in their comrades' blood, Sharingan swirling in one eye, the other—his own, dark as coal—far more terrifying. Madara, for once, is happy to just stand there and watch Kakashi work.

The remaining enemy shinobi are frozen in shock. They have heard of this shinobi only in passing, the Senju with the Sharingan eye. They thought it was a myth. While relations have never been better between the Senju and Uchiha, the idea that the latter would willingly give up one of their precious eyes is laughable; that's the only way anyone could imagine the Uchiha letting the transplantee live.

"Nice of you to drop by," Madara says, hand pressing against a particularly deep wound in his chest. He is standing straighter than before, as if Kakashi's presence alone gives him access to a well of strength he wasn't aware was left over. "You're a bit late to the party, however."

Hearing Madara's voice loosens the tension in Kakashi's shoulders a fraction, but only Madara seems to have noticed. The enemy are frozen as Kakashi casually shucks the body off his right arm, blood dripping down his fingers. "Maa," Kakashi begins, tone dripping nonchalance, "an old witch threatened to curse my family if I didn't help her collect a few things for one of her spells."

"A—a witch?" One of the enemy shinobi stutters as his brethren pale.

Madara's expression is a cross of amusement and exasperation, but no one notices, too focused on Kakashi. "Ah yes, the old biddy that lives in the cave above the monument. What did she want this time?"

Kakashi smiles, both eyes crinkling into happy crescents. This is somehow more terrifying. "Nothing too hard to find. Just the hearts of four men who've stood against me."

The four remaining enemy shinobi start shaking. One pisses himself, but they can't seem to move—and not because a Nara is nearby.

"Well by all means"—Madara motions with his free hand carelessly towards his assailants—"collect."

 


	2. (Un)Resolved Feelings (On All Fronts)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This was also prompted because of letliv3 (on tumblr), this time because of her tags whenever MadaKaka get mentioned. I can't remember exactly what they were, but they are in reference to Madara's reaction when Kakashi gets hurt/targeted (spoiler alert: he goes on a murderspree). 
> 
> **This takes place a few years after Konoha has been formed (and since both are somewhat emotionally stunted, Kakashi has not admitted to his own feelings to himself, and Madara knows how he feels but hasn't done anything about it). Other Hidden Villages are forming, and Konoha is trying to reach out to them (without the bijuu, because that's dumb why would you do that?).**
> 
> LINK TO FANART AT THE BOTTOM!
> 
> Also, in case you didn't know, the Sannin are called as such because they are three (san) ninja (nin). So the Gonin would be the five (go) ninja (nin).

The Legendary Gonin of Konoha were considered an unstoppable force across the shinobi nations—whether together or apart. To face even one was a death sentence, and the bingo book—a new device to catalogue ninja from the newly formed Hidden Villages—issued a “Flee on Sight” order for each of them. So, it would stand to reason that confronting two of them at the same time would be suicidal… unless you were part of an army of over one hundred shinobi. It was still ill advised, but there is only so much chakra in a human body, and even the greatest of shinobi can be worn out over time.

Unfortunately, this was exactly the situation Kakashi and Tobirama found themselves in. What was supposed to be a diplomatic mission to create an alliance with the Land of Lightning was actually a trap to try and weaken the Village Hidden in the Leaves, and consequently, the Land of Fire.

The Village Hidden in the Clouds—or just Kumo to the natives—though newly formed, was already trying to solidify its reputation as a powerhouse and cement the Land of Lightning and the Kaminari daimyou as one of the strongest amongst the shinobi nations. They did not have a school, or a much of an ordered bureaucracy, which is why Tobirama was sent. He had spearheaded many of such projects in Konoha, including the introduction of the first Ninja Academy. Hashirama hoped that this show of good faith would show Kumogakure no Sato that cooperation and peace between the shinobi nations was both possible and beneficial to all parties involved.

Kakashi was sent as backup; while Tobirama was strong by himself, Kumogakure had at least one shinobi who could match his strength—the newly dubbed Shodai Raikage. While Hashirama would have felt better sending more people with his younger brother, he had to juggle a delicate balance between what could be considered protection and not cross the line towards aggression. Sending Kakashi, who had mastered all of the elements and held a reputation of an S-Ranked shinobi himself (as all the Gonin did), was akin to sending Tobirama with a box of explosives. Adding anyone else would have sparked a fire of aggression. Hashirama would trust Tobirama’s life with Kakashi over an entire contingent of Leaf shinobi; such was the gap in ability.

Things went well initially; though regarded with suspicion and trailed constantly while in Kumogakure, there was no outward hostility. Neither shinobi was harassed, and talks with the spirited Raikage—though trying to Tobirama’s vast patience—went well. Instruction on how to manage and arrange the school was taken graciously and with due appreciation. It was only after they left the village that trouble found them.

Near the boarder between the Lands of Lightning and Frost, where all the water was frozen to ice, a series of explosions changed the tone of their mission from “Complete” to “Complicated.” Tobirama and Kakashi had to dodge to separate sides, isolating themselves as the enemy shinobi had planned.

The ninja surrounding them were not just from Kumo—most of them wore no headband at all, and seemed to be from clans that resided in the Land of Frost. Kaminari had somehow convinced the Shimo Clans into assisting in the elimination of two of the Legendary Gonin. Both were convinced that Konohagakure meant to insinuate their ideals into every country, and that Konoha’s show of “good faith” was more of a taunt than help.

It did not seem like much trouble at first; while both were met with a disadvantage—the lack of water for Tobirama and the dry chill meant the water for his jutsu was created mostly from his chakra and not gathered from the environment, while Kakashi’s main element of lightning was not as effective against his mostly lightning-natured opponents as it would be others—it wasn’t much of an issue for either. Tobirama had his Hiraishin no Jutsu and was a master of many kinjutsu, while Kakashi had all the other elements and over one thousand jutsu to play with.

But as time went on, and more and more ninja just kept coming, both began to tire. It was Kakashi who started fumbling first; while his resolve was strong, there was only so much chakra in a body, and Kakashi’s transplanted Sharingan took more than its share of that precious energy. Slowly, he began to accumulate injuries—mostly superficial—but with increasing frequency as his stamina drained. But between Kakashi’s own jutsu and the Hiraishin marked kunai Tobirama had equipped Kakashi with before their journey, the duo managed to conquer their opponents, prompting the survivors to flee lest they meet the fate of their comrades.

As was becoming comically typical of Kakashi, once the last enemy had fled and things were deemed “safe,” he fainted from exhaustion. Tobirama, who anticipated this, caught Kakashi on his back, and proceeded to trudge back towards home. Though fatigued himself, Tobirama carried the comatose Kakashi all the way through the Land of Frost and the Land of Waterfalls, back to the Land of Fire and up to Konoha’s gates. He did not stop much, just to bandage and clean their wounds, eat, and for short rests. He did not feel comfortable staying out of Hi for longer than absolutely necessary.

Once they had crossed the border into Hi, the sentries had arranged for an escort while sending another ahead to prep Konoha for their arrival. Waiting for them at the main gate was Hashirama and Madara. The former wore a look of worry on his face, while the latter stood stoic with his arms crossed… that is, until he saw the condition Kakashi arrived in. Madara’s shoulders tensed, and his eyes flicked red for a moment, before returning to their normal pitch. There was a spike of Killing Intent, and the weight of his chakra had all but Hashirama and Tobirama (and the still passed out Kakashi) buckling to their knees. Madara stepped forward, directing his ire towards Tobirama, as was typical (they still had not resolved their animosity, and not even the even optimistic Hashirama thought they ever would).

“What did you do now, Senju?” Madara’s tone was surprisingly level; usually he expressed his anger hackles raised, spitting acid and bile—this was somehow more terrifying. But Senju Tobirama was not one to cow easily—or at all really, he was as stubborn as he was proud—and so he was not moved.

(The men who escorted the duo from the border were too overwhelmed with sensation to think, but if they could, they would have been lamenting their decision to stay instead of leaving once the gates were in sight).

Ignoring Madara and addressing his brother, Tobirama began, “It appears that Kumogakure and the newly formed Shimo do not appreciate our offer of peace.” Hashirama’s face melted into an expression of sadness, while Madara’s brow twitched at being ignored.

“What happened?” Hashirama asked solemnly, approaching his brother and Kakashi, looking over both for wounds. After a quick diagnostic jutsu to determine their condition, Hashirama began to heal the cuts and scrapes on each person.

Madara remained standing apart from the Senju trio, arms still crossed, his nails biting into the flesh of his bicep and chest as he restrained himself from moving forward. The urge to snatch Kakashi from the Senju brothers was almost overwhelming—something he was growing increasingly familiar with—but Madara knew he had no right to it. While Kakashi was not a Senju by blood, he had been adopted not just into the clan, but into the Clan Head’s family. It was their duty to care and coddle him, not Madara’s, as much as he might itch for the chance.

Tobirama described the incident as he walked to the Senju home the brothers shared, Hashirama at his side, hands glowing green with medical chakra the entire time. Madara trailed behind them, hearing the words Tobirama spoke, but only picking up a few of them; ambush, border Shimo, Kaminari, almost one hundred dead, dozens escaped, chakra exhaustion, superficial wounds, rest. They painted a picture on the back his eyelids, showing him blood and guts bathed in a raging inferno, the flickering hellfire highlighting the angles in a stark relief. He could hear the death squall of the slain, the answering call of the Shinigami, the wail of his Susanoo begging for blood. Soon all he saw was red, feeling his physical and spiritual energy unconsciously mould into fiery chakra, causing steam to waft from his body.

When the group reached the gates of the Senju home, Madara stood outside, watching as the brothers walked up the steps to their home, enter, and disappear. He stood there for just a moment longer, and then he disappeared in a cloud of dark ashes.

No one saw Madara for weeks. No one, not even Izuna, knew where he would be. He was nowhere Tobirama could sense, which was a hard feat to achieve. Either he was suppressing his chakra to unheard of levels, or he wasn’t in the village. When asked, Hashirama seemed unconcerned, as if he knew something no one else did. This bothered Izuna and Tobirama in equal measure, something both of them found irksome (as they too had yet to settle their differences, and any similarities they shared were often addressed with scorn).

 

* * *

 

When Madara returns three weeks later, no one sees him enter the village—just as no one had seen him leave. When asked about the reports of a dark haired fire oni capable of summoning a god, who left a trail of destruction from the edge of the Lands of Frost and Waterfall all the way up to Kumogakure no Sato, he only offers a “Hn,” of disinterest before walking away to do whatever it is Madara does with his day. If that involves bumping into Kakashi at the training fields, with an oversized lunch of broiled saury and miso soup with eggplant, that is just a coincidence. When parts of Madara’s impromptu picnic go missing without preamble, if he says nothing it is because he doesn’t notice the food disappearing, not because he doesn’t mind sharing with a certain recovering shinobi. Who would accuse him of favouritism, when the words spilling from his mouth are so scathing?

“Your chakra reserves are pathetic, Hatake.”

“Maa, Madara, it’s not my fault,” Kakashi remarks lackadaisically, in a stark contrast to his actions. Kakashi is doing one handed, one fingered handstand push-ups, sweat shimmering on his skin. Opposed to his usual layers, Kakashi is wearing only his standard pants and the skin tight black undershirt with attached mask. As he lowers his body to the ground, Madara can see each muscle flex and contract with the effort. He tears his eyes away from the sight for the nth time, forcing back the desires he believes will never be reciprocated.

“Oh?” Only Madara can make a single syllable sound so scathing. “Then who, pray tell, is at fault?”

Kakashi smiles, his one visible eye crinkling into a happy crescent. It is a strange sight to see while the man is upside down, but no less infuriating (it is not at all endearing; nope, not even a little). “Why, your clan, of course!” His words are so falsely cheery, Madara can taste the sweetness on his tongue. “If this Sharingan didn’t sap so much of my charka, I wouldn’t exhaust myself so quickly.”

“It’s your inferior physiology that’s the problem, not my clan’s doujutsu. If you had the superior genes of an Uchiha, you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“‘Inferior physiology?’” Kakashi questions, and by the tone Madara already knows he’s in trouble, “then why do your eyes keep sneaking glances towards this ‘inferior physiology?’”

Madara freezes for only a fraction of a second, but Kakashi still catches it. This time Kakashi smiles smugly, the outline visible through the fabric of his mask, slate grey eye open and shining with something Madara does not recognize. Madara scoffs, purposely not turning his head away, so not to give Kakashi’s taunt any credence.

“'Sneaking glances?’” Madara mocks, “I am simply checking that you don’t relapse, since you’ve such a delicate constitution.”

“Mou, ‘dara-chan, I didn’t know you cared.” Kakashi has moved back to the syrup-laced tone, something which never ceases to offend the Uchiha Clan Head. Neither focus on the small flutter in their respective chests at the utterance of the ridiculous nickname.

Madara scoffs once more. “Care? About you? I am only trying to avoid a lecture from Hashirama. If he knew I let anything happen to you, he’d be on my case for days. I have more important things to do.”

“Like watch a convalescing shinobi doing some light training?” Kakashi’s teasing prompts a slow blink, which, from anyone else would be akin to rolling one’s eyes—Madara is too refined for such behaviour.

“Hardly. If I left once I saw you, and you managed to get yourself into trouble—as you always do—Hashirama would still harass me. I had no choice.”

“Well then, oh gracious one, which important duty were you heading towards?” Kakashi intones dryly, without missing a beat in his push-ups.

“Uchiha clan business. None of your concern.”

There is silence between them; it is tense and familiar and somehow a comfort to both. Kakashi switches hands, and starts his internal count to one thousand over again.

When the food is gone and Kakashi has finished his push-ups, moving on to some stretches, Madara finally breaks the silence. “This weakness of yours… it is unacceptable,” he utters lowly, a contemplative look scrunching his features.

“Not much I can do about it, if I want to keep the eye,” Kakashi remarks, one arm pulling the opposite elbow down behind his head.

“No, not you,” Madara agrees, swiftly standing up. In two steps he is in front of Kakashi, left hand cradling the adopted Senju’s face while the other hovers over Kakashi’s transplanted eye. Madara’s eyes flash red as they swirl into the Sharingan, and his fingers light up with green chakra. Kakashi is too started to move, frozen in his stretch, and somewhat reluctant to leave the warm hand cradling his cheek. It takes all his willpower to quiet the voice telling him to sink into that touch.

Madara’s chakra probes Kakashi’s eye, comparing the pathways he finds to the ones he knows an Uchiha has. There are minor physiological details, mainly two tenketsu points missing in the chakra pathway that leads to the eye. Additionally, while the optic nerve is correctly attached to the brain, the chakra artery feeding chakra in and the chakra vein cycling it back out is not optimally aligned. That is something Madara can fix, and so he does, letting his chakra nudge Kakashi’s chakra pathways into their proper place—proper for an Uchiha, that is. Unfortunately, this fix will not solve the problem fully. There has never been research done in the Clan on successfully transferring the Sharingan to an outsider, so Madara doesn’t exactly know what he could do to fix this.

“I’m taking you to the Clan’s eye specialist,” Madara answers, keeping his gaze forward and his steps swift and even. “She might be able to fix this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gifted some beautiful fanart for this chapter by the lovely thetoxicstrawberry over on tumblr. Feast your eyes on how gorgeous it is, by clicking on [this link](http://thetoxicstrawberry.tumblr.com/post/161026834009/no-not-you-madara-agrees-swiftly-standing), or searching my tumblr for #2sb1sf fanart


	3. Sharin-games (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara gets worried but pretends that he's just mad. Kakashi laughs at him. An OC runs away from me. Really bad puns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going a little crazy, so I've split it into two to get it up to you sooner. If it will actually stop at two, it's kinda gained sentience and started developing it's own society.

After being dragged by Madara through half of the village, and then to the center of the Uchiha Clan Complex, Kakashi was a mixture of exasperated and amused. But more than anything, he was curious. Kakashi hadn't let many medics look at or fiddle with Obito's parting gift for hundreds of reasons, but the few that _had_ said there was nothing that could be done for him. Of course, none of them were Uchiha medics, let alone the Uchiha Clan's Sharingan Eye Specialist.

While there had been, of course, one such specialist back in his time, to say that his relationship with the Uchiha Clan was strained would be a gross understatement. He was hailed by the clan as an eye thief, and further scorned for mastering its abilities better than any who were alive in his time. It was only by the grace of his late-sensei and Yamanaka Inoichi that Kakashi wasn't executed for doujutsu theft. Still, the Uchiha Clan refused to help him with the ensuing chakra drain, and Kakashi's inability to turn the eye off; they said it would create a precedent, and would encourage others to steal their precious eyes. Those were just excuses though. They didn't need to give voice to their scorn—the cold glares and the subtle ridicule he received was loud enough. It would be fair to say that Kakashi had more than enough _valid_ reasons to dislike the Uchiha as well.

Madara was the first Uchiha to look at Kakashi's eye with the intent to fix it. It was confusing for the Copy-Nin, putting him in a strange state of compliance. If anyone else had told Kakashi that they were going to fiddle with his Sharingan, Kakashi would have demonstrated how he became one of the youngest and best ANBU captains in existence; he would have been halfway across the village before the well-wisher could blink. But it was different with Madara, and Kakashi couldn't understand _why_.

Madara had tried to kill him. Madara had called him all the same names the Uchiha Clan of the future would crown him. Madara had made a point of swearing on his ancestors that he would avenge whatever Uchiha Kakashi had "stolen" the eye from, and pry the Sharingan from Kakashi's still warm corpse. It didn't make sense for Kakashi to have let Madara examine Obito's eye, and yet Kakashi couldn't help but let him. Whether it was shock or something else, Kakashi had stood still and let the other man seep his chakra into Obito's eye. That was a position of vulnerability Kakashi was not used to.

Kakashi had been closed off since his father's suicide. Yes, he had some friends, a rival—and now, two new brothers, and a new clan as an adopted Senju. Madara was… well...  _Madara_. He was Hashirama's friend, he was sworn not to try to kill Kakashi or steal Obito's eye. He was an anomaly.

Madara had gone into a rage at seeing Kakashi injured. Kakashi didn't know what to think about that. Truly, neither did Hashirama or Tobirama. Well, Hashirama seemed less confused and more bemused, as if he had an inkling as to what was going on in Madara's head, but wasn't willing to speak of it. Tobirama—who was horrible at interpersonal relationships on a good day—just assumed that it must be Madara's ego coming into play; to attack Konoha—two of the Legendary Gonin no less—was an insult to the village. Tobirama assumed that Madara was enraged at their failure to eliminate all those who would stand against them, and thus, Konoha. But Kakashi—who was unconcious at the time, but heard about the events from others—found it strange that Madara's reaction occurred _before_ Tobirama could explain what had transpired. It was almost as if Madara care—

"Stop dragging your feet, Hatake. We're _going_ to fix that eye of yours so this idiocy doesn't occur again," Madara grumbled with furrowed brows, the hand pulling on Kakashi's elbow tightening.

Kakashi slumped his shoulders even more, his feet dragging and becoming heavier. Had Madara turned to look at Kakashi instead of plowing stubbornly forward, he would have seen a mischievous gleam in Kakashi's eye. "Saa, 'Dara-chan is so impatient," he sighed, feet kicking up dirt.

Madara stopped in his place and whipped around to face the secretly smirking Copy-Nin. "Do you have a death wish, _Bakashi_? Your idiot—"

"Mou, 'Dara-chan is so cold," Kakashi interjected, affecting a wounded expression. It was a fairly impressive feat, considering three-quarters of his face was covered. But Madara just ignored him (while not noticing at all how adorable Kakashi looked. Nope, he did not want to pull down Kakashi's mask and kiss some sense into him. Why would you even suggest that?)

"— _idiotic_ behaviour is going to get you killed one day! If you don't die of complete chakra depletion in the field, the repeated chakra exhaustion is going to strain your organs until they fail! How can you hear that there is a possibility of saving your worthless life and not jump right into it?"

Kakashi debated whether or not to answer that question honestly. Should he tell Madara that he doesn't care when he dies? That Kakashi feels his own life is worthless? That he is only a tool to serve the village as the Hokage sees fit? Should he mention that the _possibility_ of losing Obito's eye is more frightening than losing his own life? Because Kakashi promised to show Obito the world through that eye, and how could he possibly do so if someone took that away? The Uchiha Clan as a whole didn't like Kakashi, not in the future, and not in this time. Yes, he and Madara had become…friends? Comrades? Kakashi didn't know what it was, he had never had a relationship like this. But whatever name it held, was it enough? Enough to be honest? Enough to fully trust a man who had sworn to kill him?

"Maa, maa"—Kakashi flapped his free hand up and down indolently—"you're overreacting—"

"You're not getting out of this, Hatake—"

"It's actually _Senju_ —" Kakashi tried to deflect, but Madara continued as if he didn't hear the other man.

"—you slippery bastard. We're going to fix this!" Madara's brows were slanted in anger, his teeth bared, and his long mane of hair standing up on end from the chakra he was unconsciously leaking. It was an intimidating sight, to be sure, but Kakashi was never one to be intimidated. Instead, he was intrigued.

"Why do you even care?" Kakashi asked. The question had been burning a hole in his brain, and he finally decided to bring it up.

The Uchiha faltered for a moment, before spitting out his reply. "Me, care? For you?" Incredulity melted off his words. Madara—arms folded and head tilted up and away—continued with a scoff, "Don't make me laugh, Hatake."

Something inside Kakashi churned. He didn't understand what it was, or why, but it felt like someone reached inside of him, grabbed his stomach, and twisted. Still, Madara's words and actions didn't add up. While, months ago, this would have been when Kakashi made his grand escape and fled—unwittingly prompting Madara to chase after him—things were different now. Something told Kakashi to stand his ground. And he always listened to his instincts.

"Then I'll just leave…" Kakashi baited, affecting nonchalance. He moved as if to go, but Madara's hand returned to Kakashi's bicep, holding him in place.

" _You're not going anywhere_ ," Madara all but growled, and proceeded to manhandle Kakashi all the way to the ophthalmologist.

The duo stopped in front of a small building. It had only two floors, the top of which looked like a residence while the bottom seemed to be a store or office. It had a flat roof where a small garden presided, the vines crawling down the bricks and giving the place a cozy vibe. The building was in contrast to those that surrounded it; the market lay a few buildings over to the left, while housing was on the right. There wasn't anyone else in the area, though the market seemed to be bustling and there were children playing in front of the housing. People seemed to walk around the building—choosing to walk down a different street as to not pass in front. Before Kakashi could question why, Madara was leading them through the wooden door and into the building.

A young girl, maybe seven or so, stood up from behind a wide, tall desk that was situated across from the door. She had long, straight, dark chestnut hair—one of two shades the Uchiha all seemed to share. Upon noticing the guests, she stood up and plastered an obviously fake smile on her face. Her chin barely passed the top of the desk. "Welcome to ' _Sharin-go? Sharin-gone!'_ Please take a seat"—the girl motioned to the men's right where a few chairs were lined up against the wall— "and the doctor will be with—"

"TATSUMI!" Madara bellowed—hand still locked onto Kakashi's arm—walking towards the back door and ignoring the sputtering child who was trying to stop him.

"Excuse me, oji-san, but Tatsumi-sensei is busy right now and cannot be interrupted. Do you have an appointment? If you do not wish to wait, I can book you for another day—" the child—who only reached Madara's sternum—attempted to placate, standing directly in Madara's way. Kakashi was impressed that the child would be so brave, although it didn't seem like she realised she was talking to her Clan Head.

Madara's gaze finally fell on the girl, his eyes softening just slightly. "I know she is just napping, Michika-chan."

"But oji-saaaaaan," the girl—Michika—whined, albeit quietly, inky eyes widening in a plea, "you know she gets grumpy if she hasn't had her nap! Everyone knows to leave Tatsumi-sensei alone between two-thirty-seven and four-oh-nine!"

' _So she knew who he was after all, and they were close enough that Madara knew her name? And the girl referred to him as "uncle" instead of "Madara-sama". This is interesting_ ,' Kakashi thought, observing their interactions. ' _That also explains why the street was so empty_.'

"She can wake up for this. Now, either you can go in there and rouse her, or I can, but either way she's going to—"

"Oh would you quit it already, nii-chan? I could hear you bellowing at that poor fool all the way down the street," a woman's voice complained from behind the closed door. In another second, the door slid open, revealing the owner of the voice. She was tall for a woman, standing maybe two inches shorter than Kakashi, and was classically beautiful in the way that all Uchiha were. She seemed to be around Izuna's age, which surprised Kakashi. He would have thought the specialist would be older. She had inky dark hair similar to Madara's, just as long, only more straight than spikey. She wore the classic Uchiha collared navy shirt, fitted for a female form. The young girl behind the counter was dressed the same. The woman wore a red medical smock tied at her waist, with black leggings beneath. Michika wore leggings alone, as the shirt fell to her knees. The woman also had a strange, bronze contraption on her head. It appeared to be a set of spectacles or goggles with various, interchangeable lenses.

"You do nothing but complain, Tatsumi," Madara rebutted, oh-so-maturely.

"That's not true! You're not around enough to know, nii-chan!" Tatsumi threw back, arms crossed and certainly not complaining at all.

"And what do you call what you're doing now?"

While the two continued to bicker, Michika gave Kakashi a long suffering look, before walking over to her desk.

"I'm just telling the truth! You're the one who always twists things around!"

"Just admit that all you ever do is whine—"

"I didn't know you had a sister, 'Dara-chan," Kakashi interjected, in an attempt to stop this argument in its tracks.

"'Dara-chan?" A slow smile morphed over Tatsumi's features. Madara shot both of them a glare.

"She's my first-cousin on my mother's side. Izuna and she have always been close, so she calls me 'brother,'" Madara explained, "And Michika is Tatsumi's niece."

"Tatsumi-sensei is going to teach me how to be a Sharingan doctor just like her!" the girl in question piped up. Tatsumi smiled indulgently at Michika.

"Only if you awaken your Sharingan, Michika-chan!" Tatsumi reminded, wagging her finger. The girl's face fell slightly, but then she sat up straighter shoulders back and head held high.

"Don't you worry about that, oba-sensei! I'll awaken my Sharingan on my first mission! I just need oji-san to give me one!" Michika turned her attention to Madara now, who was pointedly ignoring the girl. Kakashi, who was always emotionally awkward but could never stand to see a child look sad, tried to placate Michika before the inevitable fall.

"Tobirama is organizing an academy for children who wish to be ninja. Maybe you can enroll when it opens?" Kakashi offered with his patented eye-smile, earning himself a large smile and a high pitched squeal. He immediately regretted trying to comfort the girl. Tatsumi, on the other hand, was elbowing Madara suggestively with a wink.

Annoyed, Madara spun her around with his free hand, and frog marched her into the examination room, Kakashi still being lugged behind him. Tatsumi offered Kakashi a wide smile and a wink over her shoulder, purposely dragging her feet just to rile Madara up. It was then that Kakashi noticed the back of her shirt. The store's logo—a Sharingan with three tomoe, with ' _Sharin-go? Sharin-gone!'_ arched above it—lay in the place the Uchiha fan would normally have sat.

"Hashirama would love this place," Kakashi muttered to Madara, inwardly snickering at how incredibly idiotic the store name was.

"I know," Madara intoned gruffly, "which is why they can never meet."

Both men had visions of little brown haired children with blazing red eyes, handing out fliers and spewing horrible puns at unsuspecting passersby, as Hashirama cheered them on in the background.

Neither was ashamed to admit that the scene evoked a shudder.

The examination room was square, and sparsely occupied. In the center of the room sat a complicated, cushioned chair, upholstered with a soft, tan leather. Connected to the chair were various contraptions—for what, Kakashi did not know, nor did he want to find out. The walls were bare, except for the wall the chair was facing, which had an eye chart for testing vision, along with two blank posters, one on either side. There was a door to the right of the entrance, which was slightly open, and led to another examination room, this one with a bed. A messy bed where it looked like a certain specialist had been napping. There were a few potted plants in both rooms, none of which Kakashi could identify, but they looked well cared for.

Before Madara could even think of placing Kakashi in the chair, Tatsumi grabbed Madara by the shoulders and plopped him in the seat instead.

"I'm not here for me—" Madara began, annoyed, but Tatsumi was ready for his rebuke.

"Oh, I know," she said, bending over to be eye level with Madara and activating her Sharingan. "You only come by when you're half-way dead or half-way blind. And even then, Izuna is dragging you along. You've missed your checkup, nii-chan. Don't think for a second I'm going to let you leave here without a proper examination." Without looking away from her patient, Tatsumi instructed, "Roll that stool over here, would you?"

Kakashi looked around, trying to see who she was talking to.

"I was talking to you, hedgehog," she prompted. Kakashi, more amused than offended by the nickname, found the stool tucked into the corner and rolled it over as asked. "Thank you," she replied as she sat down, eyes still locked on Madara's own. Tatsumi grabbed a penlight from her smock, and pulled her goggles down over her eyes. After fiddling with the lenses for a moment, she clicked the light on, shining it into one of Madara's eyes. Madara sat still, supressing a heavy sigh, knowing that the more he complained, the longer she would draw out the examination. With the light in her left hand and her right on Madara's left eye, she channeled medical chakra into her fingertips, letting it seep into Madara's eye, through the optic nerve and to his brain.

Tatsumi opened her mouth to ask a question, but then stopped. Understanding her hesitation, Madara reassured, "You can speak freely in front of him. He was the one who suggested the procedure."

This finally tore Tatsumi's gaze from Madara, as she instead leveled Kakashi with a _Look_. Her bronze spectacles prevented Kakashi from discerning exactly what that look might have meant. After a moment, where he felt as if his soul was being examined, Tatsumi returned her attention to her patient.

"How have you been feeling, since the transplant?" she asked, letting her chakra follow the new chakra pathways Izuna's eyes had gifted Madara. He could feel her chakra tickling him; it took a good chunk of his willpower not to shift, or worse, start laughing.

"Stronger than ever," was Madara's reply, as literally anyone who had ever met Madara would have expected. Tatsumi didn't settle for this, though.

"'Dara-chaaaan~" she started, sing-song, stealing the 'beloved' nickname Kakashi had given him, "if you don't answer me properly, I'll tell your friend embarrassing stories from your childhood~"

"You wouldn't dare," Madara growled, attempting to glare. It was hard to achieve such a look when one had a light shining in an eye that was being forced open.

"You know the drill, nii-chan. I didn't get where I am because I let stubborn ninja like you bully me. Now spill, or _I_ will, and you won't like what I have to say."

After another moment of grumbling, Madara replied, listing off answers to all the questions he knew would be offered. "I have not experienced bouts of blindness, nor eyestrain. There has been no bleeding, no pain, and no swollen or broken blood vessels in or around my eyes."

Tatsumi nodded, her own Sharingan guaranteeing that she would remember the information offered.

"When was the last time you used your Sharingan's abilities?" she asked, flooding his right eye and its nerves with her chakra.

"…Four days ago," Madara admitted, somewhat reluctantly. This earned him his own _Look_ , although, once again, the bronze goggles obscured its meaning. The tight line of her lips, however, spelt displeasure.

"Turn on your Sharingan, stage one," she ordered, and Madara's eyes turned ruby-red, three tomoe spinning lazily in each eye. She made note of how much chakra flooded the eye, getting him to repeat the process a few more times while taking note of the amount of chakra used each time, and how the nerves and chakra pathways were affected afterwards. They seemed to be clear of any chakra blocks, and were not enflamed or damaged, which was a stark contrast to how his eyes were before the transplant.

"Which techniques did you use?" Tatsumi asked, switching eyes and making the same recordings.

Madara seemed reluctant to answer, as if he was giving up some secret. Yet he knew better than to lie to Tatsumi; she could probably tell from the chakra footprints in his eyes, anyways. There was no point in trying. Still, it gave Kakashi a little more information than Madara wanted, if Kakashi understood the implications. And of course he would, Kakashi was a genius, which was why Madara admired him so much.

"Amaterasu, and the Susanoo," Madara offered, his senses stretching out to feel for what Kakashi's reaction would be. It was all but a confession that Madara was the one terrorizing the residents of Shimo and Kaminari. But there was not even a flicker of surprise from the other man. That lack of reaction, although what Madara had wanted in the first place, left him strangely disappointed.

"Susanoo?" Tatsumi questioned, surprised. There wasn't usually a need for the Susanoo in these times of peace within the Land of Fire. "Turn on the Mangekyou now," she instructed before asking, "what level of the Susanoo did you reach, and for what duration?"

Flashes of the battle crossed Madara's mind; first, the buildings filled with the unsuspecting injured, burned to ashes, bathed in black flames. The screams of those who burned, of the ones who tried to douse the fires but only ended up engulfed themselves. He saw the army that they sent after him on the ninth day, mixed with shinobi from the Lands of Frost and Lightning. He saw the blue glow of his Susanoo surround him, the ribcage, the skeletal arm and sword crushing through his enemies. The sight of the Shodai Raikage—Ay—his lightning natured chakra all but useless against the Susanoo's armour. Ay, lying crushed but not dead; no, Madara left him alive, as a warning. It would take a miracle to heal him all the way, and the Raikage would carry the scars of his foolish decision for the rest of his sorry life.

"I manifested the torso, both arms, and the head. Most were skeletal, except for the torso, which grew skin and armour."

"How many times did you re-manifest the Susanoo? How long?" she asked, making note of how the chakra flooded the new chakra pathways the Eternal Mangekyou lit up.

"Per day? Only once. But for several hours. Four or five, perhaps."

She nodded, instructing him to turn his Sharingan on and off again, from stage one to Mangekyou, and from off straight to Mangekyou, comparing the differences. "And how often in the past two weeks?"

"…seven times."

This finally got the spike of chakra Madara had been waiting for from Kakashi, who was astonished that Madara would need his Susanoo that often. Tatsumi, however, was just exasperated.

"Ever since you got the Eternal Mangekyou you've been using it any chance you can! Just because your eyes won't burn out, doesn't mean your body won't!" Tatsumi scolded, slapping Madara lightly on the shoulder with the hand not currently feeding her chakra into his eye. Once again, Madara could not move, lest her chakra damage something as he pulled away.

"It was necessary," was all Madara offered, completely unapologetic. With a sigh, Tatsumi switched eyes and completed her physical examination. She pushed her goggles back onto her head, blinking a moment from the difference, Sharingan still activated.

"Alright Mr Tough Guy, read what's on the wall for me. Start with your Sharingan off."

As Madara began ratting off words, Kakashi asked, "How do you know he's not just reciting that from memory?"

"Because I write up a new chart each morning. It's a pain, but we have some Uchiha who are known for trying to lie their way through the tests. Madara is one of the worst for that, or he was. He knows better now!" The smile Tatsumi offered was in no way pleasant, despite her cheery tone. "Okay, now with your Sharingan, stage one."

Madara began listing things once again, this time different from what was visible on the wall. Intrigued, Kakashi surreptitiously lifted his headband to expose Obito's eye. With his Sharingan, Kakashi could see that the poster to the left of the eye chart had another set of characters on it, now illuminated and glowing blue. The chart to the right was still blank. Tatsumi was too involved in recording Marada's test to have noticed Kakashi's actions.

"Good, good," Tatsumi muttered to herself, one hand on her chin, the other supporting her elbow. "Now for the Mangekyou." Once more, Madara rattled off a nonsensical series of words, though Kakashi could not see where those words were coming from. He assumed they must be written on the other poster, and only visible with the Mangekyou.

Covering his eye once more, Kakashi asked, "You have the Mangekyou too, then?"

Both Madara and Tatsumi shot him a look, before turning to each other, and then back to Kakashi. Almost in unison, Madara's lips quirked into a smile, as Tatsumi broke into raucous laughter.

"Oh-ho-ho~, nii-chan," Tatsumi chuckled, eyes lit with mischief, "you always did like the smart ones."

At her teasing, Madara scowled; though not even that twisted expression could hide the slight pink dusting his cheeks. Kakashi found himself smiling at the sight. Tatsumi only laughed harder.

Knowing his examination was done (and passed with flying colours) Madara got up from his chair and roughly pushed Kakashi into his place. Kakashi offered Madara an exaggerated pout, which somehow made the Uchiha blush a little darker. Madara quickly released him, before manhandling Tatsumi back into her stool, pushing her in front of Kakashi.

Using the back of her hand to lightly dab away the tears that spilled as a result of her laughter, Tatsumi looked up at Madara, a smile still painting her lips. "I don't know what you expect me to do for a Senju, nii-chan"—she turned to smile consolingly at Kakashi—"I might be an ophthalmologist, but I can't do more than any other ophthalmologist would do for a non-Sharingan."

Kakashi's single eye looked up at Madara. When the Uchiha nodded in approval, Kakashi lifted his hitai-ate, before slowly opening his left eye. At the sight, Tatsumi gasped, pushing herself away from Kakashi and rising into a defensive stance.

"Tatsumi—" Madara started, reaching an arm out, his own Sharingan activated once more, ready to defend Kakashi if his cousin decided to go on the offensive.

"Don't you 'Tatsumi' me, Madara!" she growled, her previously cheery face twisting into a very familiar scowl; it was easy to see the family resemblance with her features scrunched in the expression Madara usually held. "You brought Senju _Kakashi_ — Sharingan no Kakashi, the _eye-thief_ , into _my office_ , and for what? To _fix it_?"

" _Tatsumi_ —"

"How _could you_? This… this…  _murderer_ , who killed one of _our brothers or sisters_ and then _stole the Sharingan_ just so he would be better able to _kill more of us?_ I can't believe _you_ , of all people—"

"That is ENOUGH!" Madara snarled, banging a fist on the wall. "I am your Clan Head, and you _will not disrespect me_. Now _sit down_ and _listen_!"

Tatsumi stood defiant for a moment, before reluctantly dragging her stool towards her with her leg and then sitting down. Her face remained twisted in its glare, looking beautifully angry, like a wronged angel, as all Uchiha somehow managed. It was really quite odd that none of them were unattractive, considering all the inbreeding.

"I have known you all your life, have I not, Tatsumi?" Madara started, ignoring Kakashi for the moment. He waited until Tatsumi nodded in agreement before continuing. "And you have known me just as long. You of all people should know that I would never forgive the theft of our doujutsu, especially after what happened to your brother. Senju Kakashi was gifted this eye—"

"An Uchiha would _never_ —"

"Do _not_ interrupt me again, Tatsumi," Madara ordered, his tone level but promising a reprimand if she were to do so again. "I have been told the circumstance which led to Kakashi gaining his eye, and have deemed there to be no foul play involved."

Tatsumi looked like she very badly wanted to refute that declaration, but knew better than to talk back to her Clan Head. "He is an irreplaceable asset to Konohagakure no Sato, and to the Uchiha Clan. It is his knowledge of our doujutsu that helped Izuna and myself, who were both going blind, attain the eyes that now defend us all. You will do your duty to your village and your clan by examining Kakashi, in order to make his usage of the eye more efficient, and less taxing to both the eye he was gifted and his body. Do you understand me?"

She nodded stiffly, leveling one last glare towards Madara before turning her attention to Kakashi. At the look, Kakashi smiled sheepishly, one of his hands rising to scratch the back of his head. He was overwhelmed by a strange mixture of emotion; the warmth of having Madara defend him, wariness towards Tatusmi and her apparent hate for him, confusion as to why he suddenly felt so happy, and apprehension at letting this stranger who hated him near something that was more precious than his own life. But with Tatsumi closing in, and Madara looming nearby, there was not much time to analyse what it all meant. So as he always did when not quite sure how to act, Kakashi got ready to flee.

"Saa… I just remembered. An old lady asked me to help her with her groceries, and I was supposed to be at the market an hour ago, so I'm just going to leave—"

"Oh no you don't," Madara growled, appearing suddenly behind Kakashi to push him back into his seat. Madara's hand's lingered on Kakashi's shoulders. "Tatsumi is going to look at your eye, and you are going to sit here and do what she tells you."

"That seems dangerous…" Kakashi hedged, getting ready to slip out of Madara's grip and back to… well, anywhere else.

"Tatsumi will swear, on her brother's soul, not to harm you or the eye in any way, won't you, imouto?" Madara only called her little sister when he wanted something, or when he was being a patronizing asshole. More often than not, those two things coincided.

"You wouldn't," she ground, Sharingan blazing, the three tomoe spinning slowly. To direct your Sharingan to a superior like that was a hostile declaration, and no one other than Tatsumi and Izuna would dare to do so; they were the only two who could get away with it. But Madara would not back down on this—not that he had ever backed down on anything.

"Do it, Tatsumi."

A moment passed in tense silence. Then another. Finally, Tatsumi closed her eyes, and ground out, "I swear, on Tatsuki's soul, that I will not harm Senju Kakashi in any way, shape, or form."

"And?" Madara pressed. Tatsumi's eyes opened to glare once more.

"And… I will do my best to fix his problem."

**TBC**


	4. Sharin-games (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tatsumi talks a lot. Everyone else listens and nods along, until they start yelling. You will graduate with a degree in Uchiha Eye Bullshit by the end of this. Certificates will be delivered by Kamui, but only if we can figure out how to transverse universes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second part of Chapter 3! It starts immediately after the previous chapter ends, so you might want to read that again to brush up on what's going on. This one is +8k words, so buckle up! Every time I've gone back to edit it, another 300-500 words got added on. So I'm just gonna stop and post this baby already. Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes! Point them out and I'll do my best to fix them.

When Tatsumi turned her attention back to Kakashi, she was cold and clinical.  The playful woman from before was washed away, and in her place was the level stare of an icy queen looking down on her servants.  It was a look most Uchiha wore constantly, albeit unintentionally; derision and superiority swirled into a face both gracefully beautiful and stomach churningly hideous.  Whatever comfort Kakashi had felt upon first meeting her—that part of him that compared her to Obito, thought she might even be a close ancestor of his—vanished under that callous gaze.  He wanted to leave—he needed to get out of there.  This was not a woman he could trust, this was not a woman he would let near his— 

“Relax, Kakashi,” Madara murmured, as wisps of his chakra slithered soothingly into Kakashi’s system.  Madara’s thumbs gently stroked Kakashi’s shoulders in a pacifying gesture, unconsciously.  “There is no one in this world Tatsumi loves more than her brother.  She will not go back on her word.”

“They took his eyes, you know,” she offered with faux nonchalance, as her hand drew closer to Kakashi’s face.  It was slow, reluctant, but the speed—or lack thereof, rather—made things all the more ominous.  While Kakashi was not one to scare easily, the idea of letting her hands touch him—touch Obito’s gift—opened a fear Kakashi had not felt since Rin’s death.  Still, he remained unaffected on the outside—as he had spent hours painstakingly training himself to do.  “They killed him right in front of me.  My twin—do you know what it’s like to have a twin, Senju?”

Kakashi did not reply, but it didn’t seem like Tatsumi was waiting for an answer. 

“We had never been apart, not for long.  We even unlocked our Sharingan on the same day.  I thought it was hard watching my brother marry—start a new family without me.  But nothing compared to that moment.”  Her hand reached his face, finally, fingers resting gently—ominously—on his brow.  Kakashi could not help but tense, but for some reason, having Madara at his back kept him in his place where he otherwise would have ran.

“There were too many of them.  It was just the two of us, against thirty of them.  Shinobi from Kaminari—those bastards are always after our eyes, them and the degenerates from Mizu.”  Madara’s grip tightened on Kakashi’s shoulders, whether in sympathy or anger was anyone’s guess.  Tatsumi’s fingers lit up with medical chakra, but Kakashi did not feel it enter his system.  “Most of them targeted Tatsuki, thinking he would have the better eyes.  Men are always like that, especially the thieves.  Their chauvinism blinds them.  But, it meant that they left me mostly alone.  I managed to kill five of them, before Tatsuki went down.  Stabbed in the back.  _Cowards!_ ” 

Tatsumi’s chakra entered Kakashi’s system with a jolt. 

It was nothing like the calm and security he felt with Madara.  While Madara’s chakra felt warm—like cozying up to the fire on a cold day—Tatsumi’s chakra scorched, fried along his nerves and left him on alert.  It felt like static, but more controlled, slower—almost molten.  While it didn’t hurt, it was decidedly uncomfortable.  Was it a symptom of her mood, or just the feel of her chakra in general?  Kakashi could not tell.

“When he fell, time seemed to freeze.  I could only see the sword in his back.  The sounds around me muted; I could no longer hear the clang of their katana against my kunai.  I could no long hear the echoing bark of triumph the Kaminari-nin cried out.  Of all the sounds that flooded the battlefield, I heard only the choking, garbled breath of my twin, as his lungs filled with blood.”  Tatsumi’s chakra seeped into his system, much slower than Madara’s had.  Was it her hesitance, or a necessity?  Again, Kakashi could not tell.  But he knew the feeling she spoke of.  Had felt it himself, had dreamt about it every night.

“Colour faded, until all that was left—” 

“—was red,” Kakashi finished.  Tatsumi’s eyes widened.  Kakashi continued.

“There was a pulse, as if the world echoed your heartbeat—”

“—and a moment of disbelief,” Madara murmured, “as though it was all just a cruel nightmare.”

“And then, the pain,” Tatsumi whispered, eyes scrunching shut, remembering the break in her heart as the other part of her soul was ripped away from her.

“The pain…” Kakashi and Madara echoed unintentionally.  Each stilled, the memory of gaining their Mangekyou flashing in their minds.  Kakashi felt Rin’s scorched blood on his hand, the terror in his heart amplified to unheard of proportions.  Madara saw his father fall—disbelief at seeing a man so powerful, so _great_ succumb to the carnage of battle—as he and Izuna raced to save him, even though all was already lost. 

The trio sat in silence, lost in their own hell.  Tatsumi lowered her head, her goggles sliding down her forehead to once again rest on her nose.  To distract herself, she fiddled with the lenses, adjusting them so she could see into Obito’s eye.

“I was frozen,” she continued, as if the words would give her strength, “and I would have died—should have died.  But they could not touch me; that was the power of my Mangekyou.  A few had taken Tatsuki away, while the rest stayed to finish me off.  I don’t know how long I stood there, but the next thing I felt was burning pain.” 

“Susanoo,” Madara whispered, one of his hands leaving Kakashi’s shoulders to rest on Tatsumi’s head.  He stroked her hair soothingly, once, twice, before tucking an errant strand behind her ear, his palm resting against her left cheek.  Though her right hand remained on Kakashi’s face, the other rose to close lightly around Madara’s wrist.  Her chakra continued to flood Kakashi’s system, slowly seeping deeper into his brain than Madara had.  Kakashi could feel it oozing along foreign pathways—even towards his neck—felt it prodding at things he didn’t know existed.  

“I don’t remember killing them.  Just spectral, skeletal hands around me, crushing them.  Some tried to flee, but of course I could not let them get away.  Not when it was their fault Tatsuki was _dead_.”  The foreign chakra in Kakashi seemed to quiver, not unlike a livewire.  Still, it did not jump from where it was supposed to be. 

“When I awoke from the daze, I was surrounded by dead bodies, but Tatsuki wasn’t there.  So I followed the footsteps, the _blood_.”  She barked a sharp laugh.  It was cold, and warbled almost unnoticeably at the end.  “ _Fools_ ,” she scoffed, in a tone Kakashi had heard Madara use time and time again.  A cruel smile lit her face, and Kakashi, in passing, thought that he was glad her eyes were covered.  It was not a look he wanted fully engraved in his brain.

“They thought that their _comrades_ could handle me.  Perhaps they thought to gain four eyes that day, instead of two.  So they did not cover their tracks—didn’t even move that far.  I saw one of them bowed over Tatsuki’s body, a glass jar filled with fluid in one hand, an eye in the other.  The other two stood by—one was disgusted by the sight, the other, entranced.  Before I knew what was happening, they were consumed by black flames.”  Her hand moved from Madara’s wrist to fiddle with the lenses once more, before returning to its previous position.

“I can still hear them screaming”—from behind the lenses, Kakashi saw a flash of red—“and I revel in it.”

Kakashi gulped unconsciously. 

“That is what we do to eye thieves,” she finished, her chakra in his system feeling all the more heavy.

“But he is no thief, imouto,” Madara spoke softly, his thumb brushing so, _so_ gently against her cheek.  “Though hard to believe, he was gifted the eye, after sacrificing one of his own to save an Uchiha.  When that Uchiha unfortunately died, he passed on the eye in thanks—” 

“ _It is not allowed!_ ” she snarled, head titling up to glare at her clan head, her fingers on Madara’s wrist clenching to stop their trembling.  Kakashi watched a tear slide down her cheek from behind her goggles.

“It is forbidden,” Madara conceded, still speaking in that soft voice Kakashi had never heard before today, his thumb erasing the evidence of her sorrow, “but it is a fitting repayment to a life debt, is it not?” 

“But for an Uchiha to gift one of our eyes to a _Senju_ —”

“I wasn’t a Senju, then,” Kakashi offered, feeling, for Obito’s sake, that this woman needed to know.  Her eyes shot back to him like a slingshot, scrutinizing his expression for any hint of dishonesty.  “I was born to a different clan—now extinct except for me—and adopted into the Senju for my own safety.  They rightfully believed that if an Uchiha were to find out about the Sharingan, I would be killed.  They took me under their protection.  Your clan-mate did not betray you.”

The information seemed to placate Tatsumi, somewhat.  Though on the outside, her demeanor would have seemed unchanged, the Sharingan picked up on the slight softening of her mouth, saw the tendons of her neck untense, her shoulders fold slightly inward in relaxation.  Her chakra inside of him seemed lighter, as if it wasn’t pressing against his nerves.  It was still uncomfortable, but the pressure he didn’t quite notice building up in his head suddenly vanished, present only in an abrupt rush of relief. 

“How long ago was the transplant?”  Tatsumi’s voice didn’t hold the warmth it had when the pair had first arrived, but it was no longer the cold, angry tone from before. 

“About ten years ago.” 

Tatsumi was surprised.  “You were young, then.”

Kakashi shrugged.  “We both were.” 

“Too young to know any better?”

Kakashi’s response was a self-depreciating smile behind his mask.  While others might have missed it, the Sharingan picked up the twist of his lips under the thin, stretchy fabric.

“Do you feel any pain?” she asked, letting go of Madara’s wrist to grab the penlight she had previously returned to her smock.  There was a click, and then Kakashi was temporarily blinded as Obito’s eye became illuminated.

“Not right now,” Kakashi hedged, causing Tatsumi to sigh.

“Don’t tell me he’s as bullheaded as you, nii-chan,” she huffed, shooting Madara a playful glare from behind her spectacles.  Madara smirked, shrugging one of his shoulders with faux nonchalance. 

“I’d say I’m more of a goat,” Madara teased, causing his cousin to snort out a laugh.  Her answering smirk, however, was a cause for concern.  Raising her spectacles back onto her forehead—as not to miss even a second of his reaction—Tatsumi struck.

“I see…so you’re admitting you’re horny?”

Madara’s face flushed red, from his chest to the roots of his hair and even the tips of his ears.  The hand on Kakashi’s shoulder tightened, while the one that had been on Tatsumi’s cheek balled into a fist and bopped her on the shoulder in a light reprimand.  Tatsumi started laughing raucously, tears streaming down her cheeks, though her chakra remained steady inside of Kakashi’s head.  He would have loved to turn around and see the expression on Madara’s face, but could not move so long as her chakra remained.

“You—Tatsumi—I—” Madara sputtered—yes, _sputtered_ —as he searched for a retort.  It only seemed to make Tatsumi laugh harder.  When Kakashi began to chuckle lowly, Madara felt a lightning bolt _zing_ down his spine.  So Madara did what he always did when he got uncomfortable; he began to yell.  “ _You’ve been spending too much time with those Inuzuka_!”

Tatsumi only laughed louder.

“ _I told you to stop associating with those ruffians!_ ” Madara scolded, trying to tame his blush and regain control over the situation.  He was only making things worse.  “ _They’re a bad influence, teaching you such language!_ ”

Tatsumi only laughed _harder_.

“Maa… I like the Inuzuka,” Kakashi defended. “And besides, anything that can make a pretty lady laugh like that is worthwhile.”  His words were meant as empty flattery, but they made jealousy coil in Madara’s stomach.  He became eerily silent, and soon, Tatsumi’s laughter faded. 

“Nii-chan, don’t be like that!” Tatsumi whined, a smirk on her face as she dried her eyes with the back of her free hand, “you know I’ve been asked to help train their vets.  I can’t _not_ spend time with them.  And your Senju is right; they’re great company.” 

It was Kakashi’s turn to blush, at being openly referred to as Madara’s.  It was strange; he didn’t know why it made his pulse skip, or his palms sweat.  Madara, on the other hand, seemed to settle down at the concession.

Tatsumi’s penlight was back in hand, and she was on topic once more.  “Alright, Senju—”

“Kakashi,” the man himself interjected.

“Okay then, _Kakashi_.  Do you feel pain when using this Sharingan?” she asked, pulling her spectacles back down and fiddling with the lenses, the penlight returning to his eye.  Kakashi did not miss her change of phrase; with Madara it had been ‘ _your_ Sharingan,’ but with Kakashi it was ‘ _this_ Sharingan.’  But despite the different wording, the atmosphere had returned to the lighthearted one from before.  It seemed that Tatsumi was easily distracted once the air was cleared.

“It does hurt when I use it,” Kakashi offered.

“And…?”  Tatsumi pressed, a wry smile on her lips.  Dragging out answers from stubborn patients was old hat for her.

“…And the longer I use it, the longer it hurts.” His mediocre answer just got him another stare down.  He sighed once more.  “It will throb even after I stop utilising it.”

“For how long do the effects last?” 

“Depends.  Hours to days, sometimes it doesn’t stop hurting for weeks.”

“And let me guess, you get blurred vision, see spots, and occasional bleeding from ruptured blood vessels?” she listed, fiddling with the spectacles’ lenses again.  “And don’t think of lying to me—I can see the effects on this Sharingan.”

Kakashi sighed.  “Why even ask the question if you know the answer?”

When she continued to give him a Look from behind her goggles, he sighed again.

“Yes, sometimes, not often,” he answered—in order—reluctantly.  It didn’t feel safe revealing his weaknesses to someone he had only just met—and had wanted to kill him only moments before.

Tatsumi nodded to herself, pulling a contraption from the chair’s handle into view.  It was an eye speculum—a two-pronged device used to hold the eye open—and she made quick work of attaching it to Kakashi’s top and bottom eyelids.  He hadn’t felt so exposed in a long time.  Had it not been for Madara standing at his back, Kakashi would certainly have been panicking by now.  Instead, he was just wary, watching closely—well, as closely as he could—though still confident that Madara would intervene with any foul play.

“This Sharingan has not been getting the required chakra.  However, it seems suddenly flooded.  I can see the atrophied charka capillaries adapting to the new influx of energy.” 

“I adjusted the central retinal chakra artery and vein just before coming here,” Madara interjected, causing Tatsumi to nod thoughtfully.

“That would help.  The surgeon was obviously not an Uchiha, or else the chakra pathways would have been handled better.  There are a few other chakra arterioles and venules that need adjusting, but that’s fairly simple,” she nudged those into their proper places with her chakra as she spoke.  Once more, Kakashi felt tingling in and around the Sharingan as the chakra flow flooded the area.  She continued, “The physical surgery itself, however, is almost flawless.”

“Almost?” Kakashi wondered, feeling a pang at remembering just who it was who implanted Obito’s eye. 

“Yes.  Was it a field operation?  There are small pieces of debris stuck in your eye.  Small rocks, or dust, I’d wager.  Why haven’t you had anyone look at this?” her sentence ended sharply, the voice all medics adopted when their patients weren’t taking proper care of themselves.  Both men were more than familiar with the tone. 

Kakashi ignored the slight rebuke. “Is it infected?” 

Tatsumi rolled her eyes at his avoidance.  No wonder Madara liked him—her cousin became obsessed with people who didn’t give him what he wanted, when he wanted it.  “No, the Sharingan’s chakra is… cushioning the debris, creating a protective barrier around them.  And they’re quite small, almost unnoticeable.  But they’re causing a strain on the eye nonetheless.  I can extract them now, but it will be painful.”

“Do it,” Madara instructed, eager to find a solution.

“Kakashi?” Tatsumi asked, ignoring her cousin.

“Is that the only problem you see?” Kakashi wondered, wanting to get all the information before he made a decision either way. 

“No, there is still more to investigate.  But you really need to get the debris out of this eye as soon as possible.” She explained, preparing herself for the minor operation even though Kakashi had not acquiesced yet.  “While any Sharingan user can strain their eyes from overuse, when _your_ chakra level lowers, the debris lose part of their cushion, cutting at the eye.  I can see areas of thickened scar tissue where the debris lay, in addition to the typical buildup from general use.  Through repeated therapy, we can eliminate the scar tissue, which will also improve functioning of the eye.  You would have to come biweekly for that, at least at first. 

“Then there is also the issue of your misplaced and missing tenketsu, and from my precursory look, I can see that not all the chakra pathways associated with activating one’s Sharingan have developed deeper in your brain—your hindbrain, specifically.  Seeing as you _yourself_ didn’t activate this Sharingan, your brain did not gain the pathways an Uchiha would have developed.  I can tell that you received this eye when it had only two tomoe, and that you developed a third and also the Mangekyou, by the charka pathways this Sharingan has gifted you.  But the ones that come with the _initial_ activation, and the first and second tomoe, are not present.  We’ll need to build them manually, by splitting your existing pathways and connecting them to the proper locations.”

When Kakashi remained silent, Tatsumi sighed, getting ready to work.  “I want to start the procedure now.  It’s simple, and while it will hurt as the debris move through and around this eye and your eye socket, there is a very rare chance of complications.  Once I finish this, we can see about the more complex issues.”

Kakashi wanted to ask for reassurance, for promises that Obito’s eye would not be harmed.  But he could tell that questioning Tatsumi’s oath would only make her mad, and he wanted to keep this warmer atmosphere over the tense one from before.  When he bade his acquiescence, she got to work. 

Tatsumi’s chakra slithered back from deep within his brain towards the back of Obito’s eye.  It encapsulated one piece of debris, before slowly pulling.  She was not lying when she said it would hurt.  He could feel it carving through his eye, felt the strain on the Sharingan’s center pupil as it was held open so the debris could be safely pulled out.  After the first piece was removed from the eye, Tatsumi directed it over to a kidney dish attached to the chair’s left arm.  It fell into the metal dish with an almost silent _ping_ —only audible due to his enhanced hearing—adding credence to her explanation. 

Tatsumi repeated the process several times; through it all, Kakashi didn’t once flinch.  Other pieces of debris were pulled out from under his eyelids, seeing as they were not in the eye, but around it.  Those somehow hurt more.  This was because they were pulled from deeper in his skull, and/or they brushed across the delicate nerves surrounding the eye. 

After about forty minutes of constant work, Tatsumi pulled away, cutting off her chakra and wiping the sweat from her forehead.  There was a small, but visible, pile of dirt in the kidney dish.  She had removed twenty-six pieces from various parts of the eye and the area surrounding it.  Kakashi’s Sharingan was sore—tender, even—and he could feel a headache coming on.  Having the Sharingan open for so long, especially when his chakra reserves weren’t fully recovered, was taxing.

Tatsumi detached the eye speculum, removed her goggles, and then went into the next room.  She returned with a small cold pack wrapped in gauze, and sat down once more.  Lightly brushing Kakashi’s hair from his forehead, Tatsumi applied the cold pack to the area just below his brow, but not directly on top of his eye.

“You can’t deactivate it, can you?” Tatsumi stated more than asked, brushing her thumb gently over his scarred lid so the eye would close.  Kakashi complied without complaint.  Though she had an idea as to what his answer would be, she had to ask anyways. 

“No,” he affirmed. “Keeping the eye closed helps, but it is constantly using my chakra.”

“Can you help with that?” Madara probed, eager to know.  When he thought of bringing Kakashi to his cousin, that was his aim.  However, as it always seemed to happen when he visited Tatsumi, he got a little more than he bargained for.

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiit’s,” she drew out the vowel, knowing her answer wasn’t what Madara wanted to hear.  The man was always so impatient.  “It’s _possible_.  Probably.  Maybe.  Maybe probably.  But not an immediate priority.” 

Madara scowled.  “I’m telling you to make it a priority.”

Tatsumi gave him her signature Look™.  Kakashi wondered idly why her face wasn’t stuck like that yet, she used it so often.  “Other issues take precedence.  And besides, it won’t be possible for him to turn off the eye until the correct chakra pathways are in place.  Fixing the damage to the eye is my first priority, and then we can work on turning it off and on.” 

Madara continued to scowl despite her explanation.

“There is no point to a switch if the proper wiring isn’t in place, Madara.  And besides, I can’t construct tenketsu out of nothing.  Plus, moving his _existing_ tenketsu into more efficient places won’t help, not without access to the lines which control the chakra input.  In fact, doing so would just run the risk of cutting off chakra flow to other vital places, resulting in necrosis, or even gangrene, which would _in turn_ necessitate amputation.  It’s much more important to send chakra to essential areas, to begin reversing some of the atrophy that’s already occurred. 

“Once we’ve”—she raised her hand to list off with her fingers—“gotten rid of the scar tissue, improved chakra flow to the area, and reversed the atrophy, his pain will be drastically decreased, and his usage of the eye more efficient overall.  _Then_ we can worry about him being able to control turning it off and on.” 

When Madara _still_ didn’t show signs of backing down, Tatsumi exhaled a long— _long_ —suffering sigh, and let her face fall into her open palm.  Her hand slid down her face, revealing an expression filled with condescension which she leveled on her stubborn cousin. 

“Okay Madara, we’ll just _rush_ into things and start the surgery now,” she started, sarcasm and false cheer dripping from her tone.  She turned to Kakashi, and he immediately wished she would look back at Madara.  “It’s not safe, _especially_ since your eye needs _at least_ a day to recover from the stress I already put on it, but that’s what _Madara_ wants.  By the way, the splitting of chakra channels is a _super_ dangerous procedure, like, top level delicate surgery, _especially_ since it’s in your _brain_.  The chances of you _dying_ are about fifty-fifty on a _good_ day, and right now, that number is raised to an _eighty-four-percent risk of failure_.  That’s supposing the eye _itself_ doesn’t just _explode_ because it’s already under stress _and_ not as structurally sound as a fully healthy eye.  Which, by the way, would likely _also_ kill you, or at the very least, cause some sort of irreparable brain damage.  But _hey_! _Madara_ over there wants me to get it done _now_ , so I guess we’ll just ignore the risks and barrel on with the surgery, alright?”

“Tatsumi—” Madara tried to interject exasperatedly, but Tatsumi was on a roll.  Kakashi surreptitiously sighed in relief, now that her attention was off him.  She could be a scary lady—it must have been another Uchiha thing. 

“Oh no, Madara, don’t interrupt me _now,_ I’m still not done!  I haven’t been able to sleep for the past week, and the _one_ time I _might_ have been able to catch a few hours, you _oh so kindly_ burst in, but I’m sure that won’t affect my ability to perform this _super delicate and complex surgery_.  I mean, he’s just a Senju, right?  Hell, he’s _adopted_.  No one will care!  Let’s just kill the bloody Senju you brought me, after making me _swear on Tatsuki’s soul_ that I would do him _no harm_.  Okay?  Let’s just go ahead and do it because—”

“ _Tatsumi!_ ”

“—the _great_ , and _powerful_ , Uchiha _Madara_ , head of the _illustrious_ Uchiha Clan—which _apparently_ has given birth to _only one genius_ , the _aforementioned Uchiha Madara_ —doesn’t want to listen to _the Clan’s youngest and brightest Sharingan specialist and Ophthalmologist_ because _hey_ , apparently ‘Dara-sama over there is _actually an ophthalmologist_ now, just because he knows enough anatomy to tinker around with the Clan’s doujutsu after _that same ophthalmologist_ gave him a few _lessons_!  He’s aaaaalllll of a sudden surpassed _her_ expertise, _aaaaaalllll_ because he wa—”

“TATSUMI! That is _enough!_ ”  Madara’s face was red, his hands unintentionally clenching into Kakashi’s shoulders.

“Oh, I’m sorry, ‘Dara-niichan~” Tatsumi's smile dripped acid. 

“ _Don’t_ call me that!” 

 “—were you saying something?  I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your own hubris.” 

Madara _glared_ as steam rose from his ears.

Now, Madara’s glare was a thing of legends.  In fact, even his ‘friendly’ look was renowned as terrifying.  But Tatsumi was desensitized to the look (all one had to do was stand behind him when he was… relieving himself—or, trying to at least—and the intimidation factor would be forever lost).  So it wasn’t surprising that she was just smiling sarcastically back, unflinching, and blinking innocently.

Kakashi would have been chuckling at the scene, if it weren’t for all the information he had gained from that… _exchange_.

“If the risk is that great,” Kakashi began, drawing the Uchiha duo’s attention, “I’m not going through with it.”

“Kakashi—” Madara started, only to be interrupted—between these two, his fearsome reputation was basically a joke. 

“I appreciate what you’ve tried to do, and what you’ve done for me already, Madara, Tatsumi-sensei.  But I’ve been getting along just fine as I am; I don’t need to be able to turn the Sharingan on and off, if the risk is my life, or damage to Ob—to the eye.”  Kakashi made to get up, but Madara’s hands on his shoulders pushed him back down.  Tatsumi cast him a strangely sympathetic smile.

“Kakashi, those were your odds were I to perform the surgery _now_.  Meaning, right this second, without preparation, and without you and that eye in an optimal state.  There are several procedures you would need done _before_ we can even know with certainty if turning the eye on and off will work, let alone be worth the risk.  This isn’t a surgery that’s been done before—not to my knowledge, at least.  I will have to do a _lot_ of research—and probably talk with the Nara to see if I can have access to their medical encyclopedia—before I know just how risky it will be,” Tatsumi explained.  Madara made a mental note that he would need to speak with the Nara Clan Head on Tatsumi’s behalf.  He would also need to come up with a better explanation than the truth of the matter.  If others found out about this experimentation, the Uchiha would be at an even higher risk of being attacked for their doujutsu. 

Tatsumi continued.  “But the procedures _I_ wanted to do first—mainly clearing up the scar tissue and working on the atrophied areas of this Sharingan—are very minor procedures that I do quite regularly for many Uchiha.  Scarring occurs from overuse in general, and Madara’s been in here enough times before he and Izuna switched eyes to corroborate that.”  Kakashi looked up towards Madara, who gave an assenting nod.  

“It will take time, of course,” Tatsumi went on to explain, “because I’m going to be cutting off pieces of scar tissue and using iryou-ninjutsu to re-heal the abrasions—and that’s not something you want to do all in one day.  After a few weeks of that, we’ll work on teaching you how to channel your chakra into those newly accessible areas of the eye, if you don’t show signs of instinctively picking up on them.  Either way, I want to give you some chakra manipulation exercises, which Madara can continue to help you with.  You’ll have to come in biweekly for me to check on the Sharingan and make sure you’re not causing more damage to the eye, but there is very little risk to your life or the eye itself.  By training the eye with these exercises, you will lower the risk of damaging the Sharingan when using it full-tilt in battle.” 

Kakashi was silent for a moment as he absorbed the huge influx of information.  When he was sure he understood the extent of what Tatsumi had outlined, he asked the most obvious question: “Then, where does the risk come in?”

Tatsumi sighed, brushing her hand through her hair with her free hand—the other still holding the icepack above Obito’s eye.  Noticing this, Kakashi went to take the pack from her hand, but she brushed him away. 

“Well,” Tatsumi began with a sigh, preparing herself for another long speech, “splitting chakra channels is always risky, as is any form of surgery—brain surgery even more so.  However”—she smiled reassuringly, one finger in the air to punctuate her point—“it’s not a new procedure.  It’s usually used for shinobi who have had their limbs mangled in some way, or those who have undergone chakra-related accidents in which the pathways fused and need to be re-divided.  In rarer cases, typically due to birth defects—either mild, where a shinobi has trouble sending chakra to certain areas not immediately evident when beginning to learn chakra mastery, _or_ in extreme cases, evident in the appearance of unnatural incidents of necrosis and gangrene in infants—there have been instances when the surgery was used to add chakra pathways to the typical locations.”

Kakashi was feeling really lucky that he was a genius at this point.

“In any of these cases,” she continued, lifting the icepack and putting it below Obito’s eye now, “the necessary tenketsu for the pathways are not created, but instead are moved.  The Sharingan cannot see tenketsu, as you probably know from experience, but tenketsu _can_ be detected when directly infusing charka to a patient.  This would be the riskiest part of the procedure.” She paused to make sure Kakashi was following along.  When he nodded, Tatsumi continued.

“Placement is key, especially since we’re dealing with the brain, and as such, each area _currently_ getting chakra is very important as well.  We would be mimicking the standard Uchiha tenketsu layout.  But, in order to put the tenketsu into the proper place, I would have to use my own chakra to nudge your existing tenketsu into position, or even attempt to split them. 

“I’m not sure which would be a safer option at this time,” Tatsumi confessed, a bit sheepish.  “Typically, moving the tenketsu would be best.  However, since we _are_ dealing with the brain, I’d like to make sure that moving any of your existing tenketsu won’t cause a problem.  If there could be any damage from removing any of your tenketsu from their current area of occupation, then I would have to split them.  Since they’re essentially gated-channels, doing so is both complex and runs the risk of completely ruining the tenketsu.  Losing the tenketsu would then result in either too much or too little charka being fed to that area, both of which hold their own dangers.  As well, any spilt tenketsu would be half the size of the original tenketsu, which would mean you would have to be much more careful in channelling chakra to that area.  So if I can avoid doing that, it would be much better for you.  If not, while not ideal, I do think the benefits gained would outweigh the cost. 

“There’s also the matter of your heritage to take into consideration.  Due to the fact that you are not of Uchihan descent means that my knowledge of my clan’s physiology might not line up with your physiology one-hundred percent.  If I could get access to your clan’s health records—if there were any kept—that would be a big help.” 

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully.  “I see.  Then, what are the chances of successful surgery?”

Tatsumi sighed once more, resting her chin on her closed fist.  “I can’t give you those numbers right now,” she admitted, scratching lightly at her chin.  “I need to do some research, and plan out the procedure.  I have performed chakra pathway splitting in the brain before—on Uchiha who have overused their Sharingan and caused the chakra pathways to fuse, and on those with birth defects.  While not _standard_ procedure, the risk involved is far less than an eye transplant—when the correct preparations are in place.  Most important for me would be getting your Clan’s medical records.  If they have any physiology charts, especially related to the eyes and the brain, those would be a big help.” 

“Maa… I don’t think I could get those for you.  But, I’m pretty sure we’re like any other clan without a kekkei genkai…” Kakashi admitted sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck.  While the Hatake Clan was around at this time, Kakashi couldn’t exactly walk up to them and ask for such records. 

Madara, however, began planning how to extract the information from the existing Hatake Clan.  He had found them located towards the coast of Fire, in the direction of the Lands of Lightning and Water.  News from the area stated that they were planning on joining up with one of the Hidden Villages—likely Konoha, based on what Madara knew of Kakashi’s origins, although rumour had it that they were also considering Kumogakure.  It would be easy to sneak in and steal the records during the move, or to demand access to them as part of their entry to the village.  Scheme after scheme ran though his mind, proving why Madara was not a shinobi one wanted to trifle with.

Tatsumi was unpleased by that information.  “ _Absolutely_ sure would be better.”  She caught the look on Madara’s face, and knew what it meant; she would be getting those records, from whatever nook or cranny they tried to hide in, regardless of lock or safe or fortress.  Nothing was safe from a Madara with a Plan.  Tatsumi kept this information to herself, however.  Let the hedgehog figure things out for himself.  She suppressed a smile.  “In that case, I’d like to perform a series of tests on you, before we even think about splitting your chakra pathways.”

Kakashi was wary, but he managed to stay as aloof as always; Gai would be crying tears of dismay at his Hip and Too Cool Attitude™ by now.  That thought brought up a wave of melancholy that was promptly ignored.  “What sort of tests?”

“And how long would they take?” Madara butted in, as impatient as always when demanding information.  He could wait an ungodly amount of time for a trap to spring—well, as long as it was within his projected schedule.  Otherwise he got antsy and impatient.  Not counting the giddiness Madara hadn’t quite grown out of—probably never would, Tatsumi wagered—which overtook him at the penultimate moment before his plan was set to begin.  Tatsumi _almost_ wanted to increase the anticipation by keeping quiet, but she didn’t want to be subjected to an irate—err… _more_ irate—Madara when she really just wanted to go to sleep already.

“Well, some of them I would be able to perform while working on healing this Sharingan,” Tatsumi explained.  “I’d just be tracing your chakra pathways, monitoring chakra levels in different parts of your brain—all pretty standard stuff.  It’s part of the yearly Uchiha physical.  I don’t know what your clan does in terms of eye-care, but it’s very standard for us.  The Hyuuga probably do something similar, I’m sure, considering they’re even more obsessed with _their_ eyes than _we_ are with _ours_.”

Kakashi rose a single brow at the derision.  He should have known it was coming.  Could any Uchiha go more than a couple of hours without claiming their superiority to the Hyuuga Clan?  Kakashi did not yet know the answer, but he was suspecting it was in the negative.

“Hey, we’re not the ones with a crazy seal keeping our Sharingan from being stolen, and enslaving every member save the current Clan Head and his direct heirs!” Tatsumi defended, slamming her free fist onto her knee in emphasis, cheeks puffing up irately under her glare.  It was too adorable to be considered scary, although her red, spinning Sharingan eyes made the top half of her expression fearsome; it was a polarizing contrast.  ‘ _This woman is very expressive_ ,’ Kakashi noted.  He was once again struck with the idea that she and Hashirama would get along smashingly.  They were similarly contradictory.  “We love our brethren more than our eyes, and you’re damn right I’m proud of that!”  Hashirama would be in joyful tears at this point.  So would Gai, as a matter of fact.  Kakashi suppressed that thought once more.

“ _Prissy_ _barbarians_ ,” Madara scoffed in agreement, nose up in the air. 

Kakashi rose two eyebrows at that. 

“Saa… ‘Dara-chan,” Kakashi began, innocently, looking up slightly with his heavy lidded eye, “I never thought I’d hear _you_ calling someone else _prissy_ …”

“HEY!”  Madara yelled, leaning over Kakashi’s shoulder to glare at him.  Tatsumi laughed.

“See?  If even _nii-chan_ can tell they’re prissy, then they must be absolutely prim, puritanical, persnickety prudes!”

Tatsumi was met with four (well, three-and-a-half) sky-high eyebrows over deadpan expressions.

“Oh, you two can just shut up!” she huffed, nose up in the air and head twisted to the side, not unlike the pose Madara had just been affecting.  “Alliteration is a sign of intelligence, just as puns are the highest form of humour!”

Madara’s stoic façade broke first as a smirk overtook his lips.

“Who’s prim, puritanical, and persnickety now?” Madara teased.  Tatsumi turned to level him with her glare for the nth time that afternoon.

“Don’t forget prissy,” Kakashi interjected, causing Madara to nod along sagely, and redirecting her ire.  Changing tactics, as intimidation was obviously ineffective, it was Tatsumi’s turn to raise her eyebrows.

“Reeeeaaaally funny guys.  You’re just a couple of comedians, huh?”

“It _was_ pretty funny,” Kakashi added unnecessarily, hand on his chin in a facsimile of thought.

“Yes, the highest form of humour, as you well know,” Madara just had to add.

Tatsumi did the only thing she had left; she pouted.  “I hate the both of you.”

“You could never hate me, imouto,” Madara rebutted, ruffling her hair.  She swatted at his hand—to no avail—pouting some more. 

“And I’m actually starting to think you like me,” Kakashi piped in, his eyes creasing into happy little crescents.

Tatsumi scoffed, “I’m purposely going to mess up your surgery now.”

“Ah, your pride in your reputation as the Uchiha Clan’s youngest and most—what word did you use…?” Madara trailed off.

“Brightest,” Kakashi helpfully interjected.

“Ah yes, thank you—youngest and _brightest_ Sharingan Specialist and Ophthalmologist will not allow you to blotch such an easy procedure.  Especially if that meant losing the faith of your beloved brothers and sisters,” Madara condescended, the irritating smirk back on his face.  It was Kakashi’s turn to nod sagely, as if he had known her for years instead of merely a couple of hours. 

Tatsumi could see why Madara was interested in Kakashi.  They shared the same humour, and were both quick on their feet.  They made a great team, too.  She wondered over how that translated to the battlefield.  They would be unstoppable, especially if she could mend the gap between Kakashi’s physiology and the donated Sharingan. Tatsumi was beginning to understand just why Madara was insistent on her solving the issue, and was determined to put her all into the project.  It would be interesting getting to know Kakashi better over the next few weeks.  But for now… 

“Oh, just get out of my office already,” Tatsumi commanded, getting up from her stool and nudging it with her foot into its proper corner.  It rolled gently towards its place, stopping with a light _thud_ as she directed her two human migraines towards the exit.  She even made a point of opening the examination room door and walking up to the store’s exit—pouting all the while.  She opened _that_ door with a flourish, and a glare, but—as Madara had teased—her pride as the youngest and brightest Sharingan Specialist and Ophthalmologist didn’t let Kakashi leave on that note. 

“Before you go to bed, ice that Sharingan again— _around_ the eye, _not_ on the _actual_ eye—and then come see me tomorrow for a more in-depth treatment plan.”  She forcibly grabbed one of Kakashi’s hands to place the still cool icepack in it.  “ _After_ five this time, if you would.  I need my beauty rest.” 

“That you do, _imouto_ ,” Madara teased on his way out the door. 

He _really_ shouldn’t have said that.  As soon as Kakashi was beside him in the street, Tatsumi struck.

“Oh, just go and make-out with your boyfriend already and leave me alone!” she called with a wink, before firmly shutting the door in their stunned faces.  If either had bothered to look at the other, they would have noticed their cheeks had reached matching shades of red.  (Tatsumi, of course, had this image forever etched in her brain, and was cackling gleefully at being responsible for such an amusing outcome).  Neither was eager to show the other the effect of Tatsumi’s words, however, and they both kept their eyes forward—decisively away from the other.

“She—that’s—she’s just—” Madara stuttered.

“Joking—yes, of course—” Kakashi picked up, clearing his throat while rubbing at the back of his neck.  Madara was quick to agree.

“Yes, joking, _joking_ —she’s horrid, that one.”

Kakashi nodded a little too exuberantly as they both turned in tandem to begin walking away from ‘ _Sharin-go, Sharin-gone!’_ and towards nowhere in particular. “Hmm.  And she _really_ shouldn’t be introduced to Hashirama.”

“Noooooo, no-no _no_ , they cannot, under _any_ circumstances, meet.  Ever.”  Madara could imagine the chaos now; Tatsumi with her too cute pout and Hashirama with his depressive aura, feeding off each other and making a fool out of Madara as he apologised just so the duo would cheer up… only to have them insult him some more.  He got enough of that from the two of them separately, he really didn’t want to see the result of their powers combined.  He just couldn’t help but fall into their verbal traps.  Kakashi was just as bad, actually… they shared a rare talent.

“Tobirama on the other hand…” Kakashi brought up, the safer topic brushing away his blush.  Madara, however, wasn’t so pleased.

“ _You’re not introducing my imouto to that baboon!”_ Madara yelled, his face getting uncomfortably close to Kakashi’s in his rage.  Kakashi remained aloof as he walked on, ignoring the way Madara’s warm breath had caressed the exposed skin of his cheek and temple.

“I don’t know,” Kakashi began thoughtfully, pulling out his last surviving copy of _Icha Icha Paradise_ and tapping his chin with its spine, “he could be just what she needs to calm down—”

“Don’t you even _think_ of it, Ha—Senju!” Madara had to correct himself at the last second; they were in public and he couldn’t call Kakashi by his actual last name where other people could hear.

“I really think he’d be good for her…”

“That’s not even _funny_ Kakashi!”

“They could bond over science and jutsu theory,” Kakashi added, only to garner a hard stare.  He, of course, soldiered on, flipping his book open one-handedly.  “And just think of how excited he’ll be to learn _all_ about how the Sharingan works…”

Madara’s eyes opened wide, both offended at the idea that his cousin would betray the clan, and that _the bastard_ would get his hands on knowledge of their doujutsu.  His protest was emphatic.  “SHE—WOULD— _NEVER_!”

“It wouldn’t be forbidden, since he’d be an Uchiha by marriage…”

“ABSOLUETLY NOT!” Madara was now offended by the idea of _the bastard_ joining his clan.  “And besides, that only holds true _if_ he marries _into_ the Clan!  He would have to forsake his name as a Senju, which that proud bastard would never do anyway—not that I’d let him into _my_ clan!”

Kakashi casually flipped a page of his book, a smirk hidden under his mask but not from his voice.  “Just think of it—Uchiha Tobirama—”

Madara was red once more, but this time for an entirely different reason.  “Don’t disgrace my name by attaching it to that—that _filth_!”

“You’d be his Clan Head, though.  He’d have to listen to you…”

Madara actually paused to think it over for a moment.  But it was a moment short lived.  “Not worth it.”

Kakashi was not deterred.  A part of him just loved riling the other man up.  It was strangely even more fun than the general chaos Kakashi left in his wake.  He couldn’t quite understand why, but found no need to stop.  “Think of all the great things they could accomplish… I _truly_ think it would be a _great_ idea.  He’d probably love how angry it made you, too…”

“That’s _ENOUGH_ , Kakashi!” Madara snarled, standing in front of Kakashi to block his path.  But oh, who would have guessed it?  When Madara reached out to grab Kakashi’s shoulders and shake the annoying man, there was a _poof_ and a cloud of smoke, which revealed a log in his stead.  The actual Kakashi was already half-way down the block.

“Maa... ’Dara-chan gets mad at such silly things~” Kakashi called sing-song over his shoulder, with a playful, two fingered salute.  Madara—in a flagrant misuse of _shunshin_ —caught up.

“I will _destroy_ you if I have to have _that_ —that— _worthless_ Senju _scum_ as a brother-in-law!  Absolutely _not_ Kakashi!  I—will— _end_ —you!” Madara fumed.

“But think of how pretty their kids will be~” Kakashi’s eye smile could be as cutting as any kunai.

“NO!  Don’t you _dare!”_   Madara’s exuberant denial did nothing to stop Kakashi from daring.

“Tobi’s pretty red eyes, Tatsumi’s pretty black hair… no one will even know when they have their Sharingan on!  It’s actually tactically in their favour…”

“Dammit Kakashi!”

“Think of your nieces and nephews, Madara!  It’d be an unparalleled advantage~”

“DON’T PUT THAT IMAGE IN MY HEAD!”  Madara had a dirty, dirty mind, and was now trying not to imagine Tobirama _making love_ (not _fucking_ , that would be too much) his sweet, delicate, imouto (he was going a little delusional in his rage, to think of Tatsumi—known within the Clan as _the Dragon_ —as _sweet_ and _delicate_ ).

“They could name their first ‘Tatsuma,’ isn’t that fearsome?  Uchiha Tatsuma, or maybe Senju Tatsuma… both sound great, but which do _you_ prefer, Madara?”

“RIKUDOU SENNIN’S BEARD, KAKASHI! I _SWEAR_ BY THE SIX PATHS, I WILL TEACH YOU THE MEANING OF PAIN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I was bragging before that this baby would be up a week from the posting of chapter 3. Well, you now know that Kakashi and I have the same policy on deadlines. I got lost on the road of eye physiology. This chapter just kept getting more and more technical, and there was an increasing amount of jargon, and then debates with myself on what was too much jargon and what was too little...so yeah. It's here now though, so lets all high-five each other for that. If you want anything explained because it was too technical/complicated, or you just want to talk about Uchiha Eye Bullshit, drop me a line in the comments, or on tumblr. I have so many headcanons for those damn copy eye wheels that I could probably talk about them forever. This is totally not where I thought I would be when I started writing MadaKaka. Next chapter will probably have some more eye-bs, as Madara and Kakashi have a fun time getting Obito's eye to work better. Maybe, idfk yet. So I reeeeaaaaaalllllllyyyy hope you guys are still interested in ophthalmology. Because that's what this story is about now. I should make one of the relationship tags: Author/Sharingan


	5. Doubt(ful) (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara contemplates and ruminates and maybe gets a little a lot jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another two-part-er. Enjoy!
> 
> (also, go check out madakaka.tumblr.com for your one-stop MadaKaka shop. There's fanfics and fanart and anything and everything MadaKaka you could want).

Kakashi spent an inordinate amount of time over at the Inuzuka Compound.

Madara couldn't understand it.  The Inuzuka were a strong clan, true, but they were barbaric.  Their ninken—while deserving of respect like any other ninja creature—had the manners of their owners, which is to say, none at all.  The compound smelt like wet dog and manure, despite whatever efforts the clan took to keep it tidy.  Though, if he were being completely honest, Madara didn't think they made much of an effort at all.

Madara also didn't want to admit that he disliked the compound because—and this was a tightly kept secret—he was allergic to dogs.  What would people _think_ if they found out the great Uchiha Madara, strongest Head the Uchiha Clan had in its history, could be hindered by a little bit of dog fur?  It made his eyes swell, all red and itchy.  Madara's eyes should be red for one reason and one reason only, and that reason started with "Sha" and ended in "ringan."

To say that Madara was curious as to why Kakashi spent so much time there was an understatement.  Madara was curious by nature, but more dangerous than that, he was used to resolving his curiosity quickly.  Kakashi had always been a curiosity wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a conundrum, which was how he had garnered the Uchiha's attention in the first place.

What Madara had not realized about himself, was that he was startlingly jealous and possessive.  He knew that they weren't good qualities—knew they were dangerous, knew it was wrong to be that way. He knew that Kakashi wouldn't appreciate it, couldn't be held down, and would resent whoever tried (although Madara _also_ knew that Kakashi loved to be chased—cheeky bastard).

Kakashi wasn't his.  Madara had to remind himself that time and time again.  When Kakashi was injured, it was not for Madara to take care of him.  When Kakashi was fighting, it was not for Madara to protect him—not that the elusive man needed it.  When Kakashi went off to the Inuzuka Compound day after day—on the days Madara's cousin had to be there to train the vets—it was not for Madara to wonder why. 

But he did.

There was obviously nothing of worth at the Inuzuka Compound—by Madara’s standards, at least.  Those mangy dogs were uncivilized, and so were their ninken.  The only thing there that Madara believed could catch anyone's attention was not a ‘some _thing_ ’ but a ‘some _one_.’  And that ‘some _one_ ’ was Uchiha Tatsumi, Madara's cousin, and the woman who was spending an increasing amount of time with his—ah, with Kakashi.

Tatsumi and Kakashi had apparently grown closer as Tatsumi's treatment of Kakashi's implanted Sharingan progressed.  Madara could understand why.  They were similar in a lot of ways; both enjoyed dry wit and gentle teasing, were unflinchingly loyal and ridiculously intelligent, and—once the animosity over how Kakashi gained his Sharingan cleared up—they had developed a mutual respect based on each other’s talents.  Madara was capable to be sure, but Kakashi and Tatsumi were more like Hashirama in that their skills stemmed from natural aptitude.  Madara—though considered a genius by many—gained and honed his skills more through hard work and shrewd use of his Sharingan.  While Kakashi and Tatsumi could boast the same advantage, neither seemed to rely on the doujutsu as much as Madara did.  On good days it impressed him, but on bad days—and today was shaping up to be a shit storm—it made him broody and snappish and, well, boyishly immature.

Perhaps all of this wouldn’t be such a bother if he knew which way Kakashi’s sexuality leaned.  Madara himself favoured men, although he had been known to admire an exceptional female beauty from time to time.  Not many people knew about his preference, considering the responsibilities Madara was held to as Clan Head.  The Uchiha Elders expected Madara to marry a docile but strong Uchiha woman, and produce more ridiculously beautiful (and hopefully, powerful) Uchiha children.  Izuna and Tatsumi were the only ones who knew his preference explicitly, and after all that teasing during Kakashi’s eye examination, he was sure the adopted Senju had an inkling as well. 

But Kakashi himself was another matter entirely.  He treated both men and women with the same distant nonchalance, making no advances towards one or the other—whether sexual or platonic.  _People_ reached out to _Kakashi;_  for a man so completely standoffish and flighty, he certainly attracted a motley following of loyal friends and comrades—even family (the Senju didn’t adopt just anyone; in fact, being adopted into _any_ of the Head families was practically unheard of).  But Kakashi rarely, if ever, reached back.

Madara knew that he was somewhat special to Kakashi; he wouldn’t have let Madara examine his Sharingan if that wasn’t the case.  Though not entirely clear on his standing with Kakashi, Madara could tell that they shared a bond built on a budding, but solid, trust.  Whether Kakashi returned Madara’s affections was an entirely different matter, but it was enough for the time being—‘ _was’_ being the imperative word.  Because before Tatsumi, Kakashi had never reached back out to anyone other than Madara, save his adopted brothers.

While Madara was not one to sit idly by and pine away, stewing in his yearning, he also wasn’t one to act rashly.  Madara would act when he was sure Kakashi felt the same way.  There was no way Madara would open up, only to have his feelings disregarded; he was too proud for that.  So Madara sat back and waited, patiently searching for an opening that belied Kakashi’s true feelings.  That Kakashi teased Madara about ‘longing glances’ and ‘deeply hidden desires,’ at the very least, told Madara that Kakashi was not adverse to male attention.  But there was a difference between ‘not being bothered by’ and ‘openly seeking’ such favour, and on days like today, that distance felt less like a skip and a hop and more like a bottomless, unbridgeable chasm.

Then there was Kakashi’s prized book to consider.  The strange, orange covered novel with an 18+ warning on the back, by an author Madara had never heard of.  The book seemed to be one of a kind, despite being the quality of a mass print (of a higher production value than any other book he had seen before, despite its wear and tear), and Madara had no idea where it came from.  He had read bits and pieces of it over Kakashi’s shoulder—the book never left Kakashi’s possession, not even for a moment, it seemed—and was disheartened by its contents.  Not by the explicit and descriptive erotica—Madara was glad to know that Kakashi had a libido at all, as he never indicated an interest in either gender, let alone sex—but because it featured solely heterosexual relationships. 

That wasn’t exactly surprising, as the majority of the media produced tended to lean in that direction.  It was difficult to come by explicit materials at all—unless one knew where to look, of course—as there was such a taboo surrounding them.  But it was even harder to find media focusing on homosexual relationships that weren’t purely depicted for their erotic content, and instead valued the bonds between people.  While Madara hadn’t read the entirety of Kakashi’s _Icha Icha Paradise_ , the scenes he had managed to glimpse were deeply romantic. 

The pages told the story of unrequited desire, of a man pining for a woman who didn’t see him, who tried to soothe that wound with the flesh of pale and unsatisfying imitations.  The end scene—which Kakashi seemed to favour, as it was often the point of the novel to which he was fixated—depicted the lead male confessing his love and devotion to the woman of his heart.  The man confessed—quite poetically, Madara admitted—that not even an island of women zealously devoted to fulfilling his every desire could compare to the paradise he found simply gazing into his love’s goldenrod eyes.  And with those words, the beautiful blonde seemed to finally believe the man’s love to be true, and not just the worthless flapping of loose lips (and looser hips).  The ensuing scene, depicting the couple’s first copulation, was actually strikingly beautiful.

Thus, Madara had concluded, the novel _could_ be written off as a preference for _romance_ rather than a preference for _women_.  It was entirely possible Kakashi was drawn in by the longing to be pursued and cherished above all others, rather than the promiscuity of the pursuer.  It was adding Tatsumi to the mix that confused things. 

There weren’t many kunoichi to start with, and those who reached adulthood were even rarer.  Madara had not once seen Kakashi interacting with a civilian, unless it was to purchase some such thing or another.  In those situations he was distant, clinical, and detached.  So, to watch Kakashi latch on to the first kunoichi to make his acquaintance (to Madara’s knowledge, at least) stirred doubts within Madara that could not be tamed.  Though Kakashi’s teasing towards Madara could certainly be considered flirting by some—and Madara was usually confident enough in his own magnetism to call it that, at least to himself—that Kakashi was now spending so much time with Tatsumi crumbled that confidence, until he was left with only the ashes of doubt and jealousy clinging to his throat, coating his lungs, and making it harder to breathe.

It was one thing for Kakashi to visit Tatsumi for assistance with his eye, in her office, where a seven-year-old girl waited just beyond a shoji door as an unwitting chaperone.  It was an entirely _different_ matter for Kakashi to follow after Tatsumi like a puppy, and to spend time at the _Inuzuka_ Compound, of all places.   _Because Kakashi was not required to be there_.  And to damn him even further, it was Madara himself who introduced them. 

This entire situation was of Madara’s own making, adding to the ever growing list of ‘Ways Madara Has Screwed Himself Over.’  Being caught sharing a friendship with Hashirama—which _almost_ resulted in the death of his only remaining brother, and _actually_ resulted in years and years of unnecessary bloodshed between their clans—had formally been at the top of that list.  But introducing these two now topped it. 

The selfish part of Madara berated himself for putting Kakashi first and trying to get him help.  Madara’s pride insisted that he himself could have solved the problem, with enough time and more hard work.  It would have taken longer, however—how long, Madara couldn’t be sure—and he cursed his impatience for taking the swift path instead of waiting things out.  Madara wasn’t often impatient—he favoured caution over rash action any day—but there was something about Kakashi that crumbled that resolve.  Just the thought of Kakashi in danger caused a lump of anxiety to bubble up in his throat. 

These visits to the Inuzuka Compound had started after Kakashi’s third checkup—or so Madara had been told.  Madara was not with Kakashi for any of his follow-up appointments, as Hashirama required his talents on a mission outside the village. 

That Kakashi actually went to see Tatsumi, of his own violation, was damming in its own way.  Kakashi never took care of his own health, not unless strong-armed into doing so.  Kakashi was famous throughout the village for his avoidance of not just the hospital, but any of the clinics.  The only person Kakashi let close enough to heal him was Hashirama.  Even on missions, Kakashi often denied the help of a field-medic if he could get away with slapping on a bandage, or even sewing his own sutures.  Madara couldn’t count the amount of times he had been out on a mission with Kakashi, only to find out much later that yes, Kakashi was injured, and yes, his self-prescribed treatment was to simply pop a soldier pill, wrap himself up in some bandages with some ointment, and hobble on his merry way.  In fact, shinobi were now given specific instructions when they left on a mission with Kakashi; _always check Kakashi for injuries after a fight, especially if he says he’s okay_.  The Hokage had _literally_ ordered _every shinobi in the village_ to look out for Kakashi’s health.  Not even Tobirama, stubborn as he was, avoided medical attention the way that Kakashi did.  So the implications, the reason for Kakashi to visit Tatsumi without anyone dragging him ‘Maa’-ing and ‘it’s not that bad’-ing, as his organs fell from their usual constraints, leaving a trail of blood in his wake, was…was…

Madara refused to think any more on that.

It was mere coincidence that Madara’s mission took him near the Hatake Compound.   He had utilized some of his time to scout the area, in order to determine just what he would need to infiltrate the complex and extract any of their medical histories.  He now had a solid plan for their retrieval, and would likely take Tatsumi with him in order for her to review precisely what she needed, without having to physically remove the records from the compound.  When all was said and done, Madara had been gone from the village for twelve days.

In those twelve days, Kakashi had visited Tatsumi at her office six times for treatment, and another four times for what, Madara could not say.  But he had heard the rumours going around the village; since no one was supposed to know about her work on Kakashi’s Sharingan, the next logical conclusion the nosey villagers came up with was that Kakashi was courting Tatsumi.  Thankfully, Hashirama and Tobirama had yet to catch wind of it—they would have bombarded Tatsumi on sheer principle if that was the case, and Madara was eager to keep them away from her.  Although, if he could steer Tatsumi’s interest to one of them…

No.  Tatsumi wouldn’t be interested in Kakashi.  And even if she was, Tatsumi had always known where Madara’s heart lay before he himself did.  She would not make any moves on Kakashi, knowing that Madara harboured feeling for him.  Not that Izuna would let her, anyways.  Tatsumi would argue that no one had a say over what she did, outside of clan business; the only opinion she had ever taken into account was that of her twin, and once Tatsuki died, well, she claimed to obey none.  Her autonomy was a point of pride for her, as she became Head of her small Branch of the family (since her father, too, was dead).  But Izuna had always been second closest in her heart, and loath as she was to admit it, Izuna could—and often did—have her eating out of the palm of his hand.  With Izuna’s inbred resentment towards the Senju, there was no way Tatsumi would find herself a lover or a husband in that clan.  Despite her independence, Tatsumi had never failed to put Clan over Self; in that way, she was a model Uchiha.

Therefore, their continued interaction _had_ to be a product of Kakashi’s desire to be in Tatsumi’s presence.  That was the only logical conclusion Madara could come to.  And it was a conclusion that burned like a botched Goukakyuu caught in the throat.

It wasn’t hard to find out what Tatsumi and Kakashi had been up to in his absence.  All anyone seemed to talk about—at least within the Uchiha Clan—was how the eccentric and closed off Tatsumi was seen with startling frequency in the presence of one of the Senju brothers.  Madara had even been given an itemized list—outlining the duration and location of the times Kakashi and Tatsumi met up—from Uchiha Makami, a particularly paranoid veteran. 

Several Uchiha had petitioned Madara to step in as Clan Head and forbid the acquaintance; the shrewdest of the clan saw the potential for Tatsumi to help Kakashi with his Sharingan, as it was her specialty.  Consequently, they saw the danger such actions could cause, and the precedent it would set.  (These rumours highlighted just how important it was that no one find out what was really going on with Madara’s orders to have Kakashi’s Sharingan fixed).  Others—who were more confident in Tatsumi’s loyalty to the Clan—felt that Kakashi was either trying to slither his slimy Senju way into her good graces, or just plain harassing her, and she was waiting for Madara’s return so as to know what action to take.  It wouldn’t do to scorn or accidentally offend one of the Hokage’s little brothers—even if he was adopted, and the Hokage was a gentle and friendly fool outside of battle.

Thanks to this snooping and paranoia, Madara knew exactly what the pair had been up to—well, as much as could be discovered about exemplary shinobi.  Both were talented; Tatsumi with her knack for crafting illusions that could exploit even his Mangekyou Sharingan, and Kakashi with his ability to completely disappear whenever he wanted to.  Kakashi had been caught sneaking into Tatsumi’s office more than once—this was reported by Makami as Kakashi’s attempts at stealing the Sharingan’s secrets.  Thankfully, it seemed that Kakashi had caught on to when he was being watched, because he would make those visits to Tatsumi’s office short, more often than not taking her out to lunch or dinner, depending on the time of day.  That was either clever thinking, or Kakashi’s way of gaining Tatsumi’s favour.

It was no secret that Tatsumi was a sucker for free food and intelligent conversation, something, apparently, Kakashi was more than adept at providing.  As a matter of fact, one of the easiest ways to get _Kakashi_ to meet up with you within a relatively timely manner was to offer the man a free meal (not that he was ever on time, even for that).  Afterwards, he usually walked Tatsumi back to her clinic or her home, which was located on the floor above her workspace.  Kakashi would then either come in for ‘tea,’ or simply bid her adieu.  Kakashi’s departure was occasionally punctuated with a flamboyant, masked kiss on her knuckles, his single eye creased in a happy crescent, directed at whomever had been caught staring.  (And how that image made Madara’s stomach churn, even if it could just be Kakashi’s playful side purposely stirring up trouble).  Madara could tell that Kakashi’s ‘departures’ were just another ruse, too; Kakashi would be sneaking back in at a later time for his actual treatment, or likely even sending out a shadow clone, while the original hid inside the back office—almost certainly reading his favourite book—until Makami and the nosey Uchiha deemed the area ‘Senju Free.’

During the days Kakashi did not receive treatment, he spent several hours with Tatsumi at the Inuzuka Compound.  It had started on Madara’s sixth day away from the village, according to these very detailed and invasive notes.  (Madara made a note to have a discussion with Makami about personal boundaries).  The first day Kakashi had accompanied Tatsumi, she had been scheduled to teach another lesson at the Inuzuka Compound.  This first visit, and each consecutive visit, followed the same pattern.

Tatsumi would begin with a lesson in theory.  Even though Kakashi would leave Tatsumi alone while she taught the Inuzuka vets, Makami had speculated that Kakashi’s absence was a ruse, and that he was actually hiding nearby. According to the paranoid Uchiha, Kakashi’s supposed ‘goal’ was to learn bits of ophthalmology, so he could fiddle with his Sharingan.  Makami insisted on this, despite also recording that Kakashi had been watching the ninken play and train out on the grounds, while Tatsumi and the vets remained inside a building nearby.

When Tatsumi’s lesson moved on from theory to the practicum, she and the four Inuzuka vets would make their way out into the yard where the ninken (and Kakashi) had been lounging.  Strangely—to the vets, Makami, and Madara himself—Tatsumi would ask Kakashi to assist with the lessons.  She would have Kakashi gather one of the ninken for examination, and he was charged with keeping the animal calm throughout her demonstration.  Even as she called the Inuzuka up to the volunteered ninken in order to observe each one perform the technique she had just taught them, Tatsumi had Kakashi stay by her (and the ninken’s) side.

It was decidedly odd.  Makami, of course, found this suspicious on the grounds that Kakashi was trying to steal secret Uchiha knowledge—never mind that Tatsumi was under orders by Hashirama and Madara to share some of that knowledge with the Inuzuka and any interested party.  It was part of what Hashirama deemed each clan’s responsibility in strengthening bonds within the village.  (Makami also didn’t know that it was Kakashi who suggested this exchange program, and it was for the best that he never found out).  Each clan was to share certain subsets of knowledge with the other clans, in the hopes of promoting bonding and trust between them, thereby inspiring a stronger sense of village cohesiveness.  So, even if Kakashi had actually _wanted_ to learn this information, it was part of the agreed upon treaty that it would be taught to _any_ of the clans—or even individuals—that showed an interest.  But that’s not what was bothering Madara.

Madara found it odd because, no matter how much he thought and contemplated and ruminated, he could see no reason for _Kakashi_ to be there.

A part of him hoped that the pair had noticed the increased scrutiny from the Uchiha Clan, and had decided to manipulate the rumour mill by seeming like paramours who couldn’t stand to be apart.  If that was the case, they certainly were convincing.  Why else would Tatsumi have Kakashi stay so close, so unnecessarily?

Even more strange, was that Tatsumi had increased her visits to the Inuzuka Compound.  Makami reported that Tatsumi wanted to complete a full ocular checkup on all the ninken.  Her reasoning was that teaching the Inuzuka to do it themselves was slow going, and some of the canines were showing advanced stages of ocular degeneration.  That seemed like a lie, to both Makami and Madara. 

Tatsumi didn’t care much for dogs; she was more of a cat person, as most Uchiha tended to be.  Nor was she especially generous with her time.  But irrespective of that, if there was a problem with the ninken, surely she would have noticed it before now.  Makami reported that Kakashi had likely convinced her to visit the Inuzuka more often, so that he could steal more of her techniques.  Madara was starting to think it was just an excuse for the pair to spend time together.

 _‘And_ ,’ the thought nagged at him, ‘ _if they were spending this much time together under public scrutiny, how much were they spending_ alone _?  What sorts of things were they getting up to?’_

The evidence was increasingly damning, and while at first Madara had been sure that Tatsumi would do nothing to infringe on his territory, now, he wasn’t so sure.  It could—Madara reminded himself for the nth time—all be a ruse; Kakashi and Tatsumi could be using the visits to the Inuzuka Compound to hide that she was actually working on his Sharingan.  But Madara could not discern how Kakashi and the Inuzuka were related.  Of all the excuses Tatsumi could make to be spending time with Kakashi, having him assist her with her examinations on the Inuzuka ninken was just so peculiar.  It could be that the strangeness was chosen to baffle; people would be busy pondering what Kakashi was doing at the Inuzuka’s rather than what Tatsumi was doing with Kakashi.  Or, it could be that they fell so in love in those six days that neither could stand to be apart and—

No.  Madara had to stop thinking like that.  He wasn’t a simpering, love-sick buffoon with a melancholic temperament, like that idiot Hashirama was prone to indulge in.  He was Uchiha Madara, the choleric Head of the Uchiha Clan, and one of the most fearsome shinobi the world had ever known.  Such behaviour was unbecoming of someone of his stature.  It was obvious that Madara would not find his answers by sitting around and thinking up every which scenario that could possibly arise.  No.  Madara was the Clan Head, and Tatsumi was not just a Clan member, but practically his sister.  If he wanted to find the truth, he would just have to ask her what was going on.  Tatsumi wouldn’t lie to him.

And if Madara suspected Tatsumi was being dishonest, he would sick Izuna on her.

Madara was starting to regret that he had taken the time to go back to his home, shower, and change before seeking Tatsumi and Kakashi out.  At first he thought the accusations were baseless, but—from the time he passed the village gates—he had been accosted by (seemingly never-ending) concerned Uchiha.  The amount of people with worrying observations had only increased the deeper he got into the Uchiha district, and his time in the shower had only riled him up more, instead of calming him down.  Madara still took the time to make sure his appearance met his own high standards; he traded his usual Uchiha top for a navy, hip-length kimono with an uchiwa on the back—the collar closed looser than proper, falling open to display the slope of his neck, his hard pectorals, and down to the top of his defined abdomen—held shut with a matching, thin obi, on top of his usual pants.  He had even used a warm fuuton jutsu, along with a kinton jutsu to warm his hands, to help dry his hair instead of letting it dry naturally.  On top of that, he went so far as to add some hair oils he was given as a birthday present and never used.  As such, his hair was looking particularly glossy and even somewhat smooth… closer to Tatsumi’s texture than his usual wild spikes.

If that was because he though Kakashi might find tamer hair more pleasing, he would never admit to it.

Not that Madara had planned on confronting them right away.  He had left his home to find Izuna and get some lunch—the brothers always tried to find each other first when returning from their missions.  But before he could find Izuna, Makami and his paranoia had approached him with his ‘report.’

Which is how Madara found himself at the Inuzuka Compound for the second time since their clan joined Konohagakure no Sato (the first being just after it was built, as part of a welcoming ceremony Hashirama insisted on holding for each of the clans). 

(Madara hated the damnable welcoming ceremonies).

He saw Tatsumi first.  She was out front, talking with a few of the younger vets—who, Madara was smug to note—seemed enamoured with her.  It was just another example of how the Uchiha were superior in every way—not that it was hard to be more talented or beautiful than an Inuzuka, in Madara’s not-so-humble opinion.  She wasn’t wearing her smock today, and instead dressed far more flatteringly in her usual form-fitted, high-collared navy Uchiha top, a thick, plum obi under her bust, tied in a high bow at her back—which was unusually dressy for her.  Tatsumi typically wore her obi tied in a flat, low knot.  The split in the front of her shirt started slightly above her navel, and she wore her regular black, knee-length leggings underneath, the waist settling just high enough to cover her hipbones.  Her goggles were around her neck, hidden under her collar, allowing her long, center-parted bangs to gracefully frame her face.  Madara noted and begrudged the allure in her demure yet provocative outfit.  Her midriff wasn’t usually exposed when she was wearing her smock, but now the bit of flesh seemed to be mocking him.  Why else would she forgo her medical smock, if not to tempt Kakashi with her feminine form?

With one of his targets in sight, Madara’s eyes searched for the other.  He would not admit, even to himself, how his eyes had missed the sight of that infuriating, silver-haired Senju.  Before he could find his target, however, Tatsumi appeared in front of him, having dismissed her audience in order to speak with him.

“Well, well, _nii-chan_ , fancy seeing you here, of all places,” she drawled with a smirk, arms crossed and eyes laughing at him.  She had noticed his meticulous appearance, her gaze trailing down his uncharacteristically exposed skin before making its way back to match his own, thousands of teasing words going unsaid.

“I could say the same to you, _imouto_ ,” Madara returned, subconsciously craning to his full height and looking down his nose at her.  “You’re only scheduled to be here once a week.”

“And how do you know this isn’t my one day to be here?” she hedged innocently, with an overdone flutter of her eyelashes.  Tatsumi knew she was making him mad, and she fully intended to press all of his buttons.

“Here”—Madara shoved the itinerary Makami had given him into her arms—“what do you have to say about this?”

Tatsumi quickly looked over the papers, her Sharingan flashing on so that she could read through them faster.  When she was done flipping through them, her smile was so wide, Madara wondered if it might split her face in half.  “Don’t tell me _you’re_ why Makami has been following me for the last two weeks.”

Madara scoffed, crossing his arms as he shifted his weight to one side. “Hardly.”  The word dripped with scorn.  “I received this report almost as soon as I came through the gate”—Tatsumi didn’t need to know that was an exaggeration, Madara conceded—“not to mention the dozens of complaints the Clan all but drowned me in.  What in the world were you doing?”

“Now now, _nii-chan_ ,” Tatsumi began, ducking her chin beneath her collar as if to hide her lips, as she casually shifted her weight, “just because you’re jealous of what Kakashi and I have going on—”

“And what, exactly do you have going on?” Madara interrupted, unable to hold the question back any longer.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Tatsumi moved in closer, as if she were about to share a deep secret. She took both his hands in hers, angling her chin up towards his ear before whispering, “He’s trying to court me.”

The blood in Madara’s veins ran cold. 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this was fun. Several things:
> 
> 1) GO TO THE MADAKAKA BLOG. Seriously, it's amazing. madakaka.tumblr.com, or @madakaka. There are some lovely people on tumblr who have been making some sexy (and R-rated) MadaKaka art, and there are some smutty one shots floating around too. Plus some fluffy-fluff, a bit of (horribly) angsty-angst (my heart TToTT), and miscellaneous but fabulous MadaKaka stuff. You won't regret it!
> 
> 2) Now that I've gotten that out of the way, chapter notes! I had to split this one into two. This part is +5k words (I distinctly remember telling myself it was going to be 3k max, but apparently I am a liar). Aaaaand, well, I kind of like leaving you all here (not even going to pretend to be sorry). The second part is already almost 4k, and I'm just about half-way done with it so...it will probably be another long one. Coming...sometime next month.
> 
> 3) This chapter was inspired by a prompt on tumblr. Now, I want to wait to tell you the prompt until everything is said and done, because I actually haven't gotten to the prompted part yet. So you'll hear about it next chapter. Can you tell I like suspense? I live for it. If you want to see something happen in this story, please feel free to drop me a prompt, either here or on tumblr (go to @purple-possibilities or @ivegotpurple for that, not the madakaka blog please and thank you). I can't promise the prompts will be dealt with...promptly, or that they'll be connected to this (I might use them for stand alone one-shots since this is turning into somewhat of a story) but I will eventually get to all of them.
> 
> 4) I hope you enjoyed this! In case you are wondering, there is no intention of making this story KakaTatsu. So don't worry, this IS a MadaKaka story and will remain a MadaKaka story. But what's a good romance without a lot of confusion and unrequited pining?
> 
> 5) This is unbeta'd (as always) and I've been debating whether or not I want to get a beta for this story. On the one hand, I would feel less crazy about my own editing (I go over these chapters a billion times and still miss things) but on the other, they would take longer to get out. So for now, if you see a mistake, or something weird, please point it out to me and I'll make sure to fix it!
> 
> 6) And lastly, I have plans for a prequel to this! Yes you heard me correctly! When the prequel comes out, I will likely be changing the name of this story. Just a warning!


	6. Doubt(ful) (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara is a dumbass. Kakashi... well... at least he's cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …hiiiiii… remember me? No? It's ok, I don't either. Here is the long (longlonglonglong _loooong_ ) awaited part two of Doubt(ful). It's also the longest chapter to date, at over 11k words. Please keep in mind that my writing is 99% subtext and foreshadowing. There will be links to some fanart at the bottom of the chapter. Also, you're probably gonna want to go and reread the end of the last chapter, at least, since this continues directly from that. Now, without further ado, here is...

The words hit Madara like sledgehammer.  All of his insecurities, all of his speculation had been true.  Kakashi didn’t want him.  Worse, Kakashi wanted Tatsumi.  The weight of that heartbreak hit him with an intensity Madara had not been expecting. 

Suddenly, things Madara hadn’t even known he wanted were gone—impossibilities where there had once been ‘what ifs,’ and ‘maybes,’ or no conscious thought at all, just an innate _feeling_.  Lazy mornings holding each other in bed—gone.  Late nights, exhausted first from sparring, and then from _sparring_ —just a dream.  Knowing glances, desperate kisses, cold nights made warm by the company, simple meals shared in their home— _their home_ —where they fought and made up and… and… and… in their place…

Tatsumi’s teasing smile bringing a beguiling flush to the tips of Kakashi’s ears, only for turnabout to dust her cheeks in an equally alluring pink.  Family get-togethers watching Tatsumi and Kakashi snuggle up in dark corners, or dinners sitting across the table—so far, so _far_ across the table—while Kakashi handfed Tatsumi a bite of dessert, her licking at his fingers, him chasing the food with a kiss, nibbling at her lips, whispering how he didn’t mind the sweetness when it was served on her tongue.  Tatsumi dressed in the heirloom Uchiha wedding kimono, kneeling next to Kakashi—adorned in the Senju wedding finery—while Madara played the role of father in the Shinto wedding ceremony to bind their lives together.  Coming by Tatsumi’s office during her ‘nap time’ only to find Michika outside, the sounds of Kakashi and Tatsumi making love spilling from an open window… perhaps even catching a glance of Kakashi’s back, his taut ass flexing with each thrust, Tatsumi’s feet locked around his torso, her nails leaving red trails on his flesh, her name on his tongue instead of… instead of...

Madara was light-headed, and felt completely separated from his body.  He would have drowned under the ache and the unrelenting nightmare, or perhaps floated away, adrift, if it weren’t for a pair of hands anchoring him to reality.  Hands that were squeezing his harder and harder—bones beginning to grind together, nails biting into his flesh—the longer he just stood there like a dumbass.

It seemed strangely familiar.

A sudden memory broke through Madara’s rumination, of secret plans made in the darkest depth of the forest where no one was around to hear or see them.  It was almost impossible to keep secrets in a ninja household, even more so when one’s father was Uchiha Tajima.  Hand signs were easily decipherable, especially with the Sharingan’s ability to see even the slightest of movements.  So, as children, they had cooked up a code, Madara, his siblings, and the Tatsu-twins.  If the speaker made physical contact while talking, it meant that whatever was being said was a lie, one that the listener was being asked to go along with, without question.  The truth could be exposed later, in private, when adult eyes were not watching, and getting into trouble wasn’t imminent.

It had been years since someone had used that code with Madara; their parents were all dead, they were all adults, and Madara was Clan Head—what did he have to worry about?  He hadn’t used the code much, himself; Izuna was the one always getting into trouble in their youth, and Madara’s position as heir meant the others tried to keep him out of their schemes when they could.  Madara couldn’t afford to break the rules like the other’s did; he was held to much stricter standards, and his punishments were often harsher.

As such, Madara hadn’t clued in when Tatsumi first gripped his hands.  Even before he saw her, even before she delivered that heartbreaking lie, Madara had been trapped in toxic thoughts, spiralling deeper and deeper into a despair of his own making.  It was the pain from Tatsumi’s tightening grip that snapped him out of it and finally grabbed his attention.  It also made him aware of one very important detail.

Under the weight of believing his shot with Kakashi was gone, Madara hadn’t been paying attention—not since he began receiving reports of Kakashi and Tatsumi’s potential courtship from his clanspeople.  If he had been, he would have noticed that Makami—that twice damned, paranoid veteran—had clandestinely followed him to the compound. 

It wasn’t safe to be discussing Kakashi in the open.  The Sharingan could read lips, so it didn’t matter how quietly they spoke.  Madara suddenly realised that Tatsumi hadn’t hidden her mouth behind her shirt collar when she teased him to be coy, but because she was trying to prevent Makami from reading her lips.  It would be suspicious to carry on a conversation that way, however.  Madara suddenly wished he and Tatsumi had chosen to adopt Kakashi’s fashion habits, as that would have given them a much needed layer of privacy, and a benign excuse to keep their words under wraps.

Madara concentrated, opening his senses.  While he couldn’t sense people by infusing chakra like Tobirama could, the Uchiha had other ways of detecting another’s presence.  While it was too suspicious to turn his Sharingan on while another Sharingan was observing him—the flash of chakra would be glaringly obvious to anyone with that particular doujutsu activated—Madara was not an elite ninja simply because he mastered his clan’s kekkei genkai.

_Four o’clock.  The crunch of a foot on bark.  Shallow breathing.  Makami._

Recovering now that he was aware of what was going on, Madara affected a scolding mien, putting on a show for the Uchiha hiding on the edges of his awareness.

“Oh?” Only Madara could fill a single syllable with so much snark.  “And just who gave him permission for that?”

Tatsumi removed her hands from Madara’s own in order to cross her arms, looking down her nose at him haughtily.  “I’m the Head of my Branch of the family, Madara.  I don’t need anyone’s permission to accept an offer of courtship.”

“You may be a Branch Head, but _I_ am your Clan Head.  And in my absence, _Izuna_ is in charge—”

“This is not a matter for the _Clan Head—_ ”

“Oh, but it _is_ when it involves _you_ , sweet _imouto_.  You _know_ what the Elders—”

“Stuff the Elders!”

“ _Tatsumi!_ ” Madara reprimanded, and Tatsumi had the decency to look properly chastised.  “You know what the Elders have planned for you,” he finished more quietly.

Tatsumi sighed and nodded, brushing some of her hair back.  “And what they have planned for _you_?”

Oh, the Elders and their limitless, meddlesome plans.  It was unfortunate that the Clan put so much faith in the Elders’ insight.  Their ideas were traditionalist to the extreme, rooted in the old ways.  But the Uchiha Clan wasn’t a mercenary clan anymore, it was part of the first Ninja Village, working specifically under the Fire Daimyou.  Things were different now.  Being a part of a village made up of many clans, there was a greater need for compromise and comradery.  Even Madara himself, a part of the younger generation, had to remind himself at times that things had changed. 

The Elders’ designs were set for putting the Uchiha above the rest, guaranteeing the Clan’s superiority.  But being the strongest, having the most power—those were antiquated ideas of superiority.  The Senju Clan was thriving because they established amiable alliances, fortifying those relationships by binding them in friendships.  It was Hashirama’s branch of friendship which started their village in the first place, stopping their feud and thus the conflict warring between them, and was the reason why the Land of Fire was seen by outsiders as such a threat. 

Madara knew, if he were to ensure the strength and legacy of his clan, he would need to do the same.  In theory, a relationship between Tatsumi and Kakashi would be beneficial; connecting the Uchiha and the Senju—even an adopted one—would guarantee an Uchiha voice was always heard amongst the Senju, and thus the village Hashirama now ruled.  Of course, another Uchiha could easily fit that spot…

But that had nothing to do with this ruse they needed to paint for Makami and his paranoia.  In order to appease Makami, so far gone in his delusions as he was, Madara would have to be a ninja and not a politician.  At least in public.  And so a very familiar lie passed his lips.

“The Elders are wise, and I always take their input into account when making my decisions.”

It took all of Tatsumi’s willpower to stop herself from laughing.  How many times had Madara cursed the Elders, for their meddling, their ‘plans,’ and their existence in general?  But ‘oh no, what about the sacred Elders?!’ was a skit they had far too much experience playing. 

Whenever they could, Izuna and Tatsumi took the brunt of the blame (in public, at least) for Madara’s disagreements with the Elders.  It was just to save face—the Elders themselves knew what Madara was like—but no one spoke of it.  If there was one thing the Uchiha were known for, it was their penchant for illusions—genjutsu or otherwise.

From the branches of the tree he was hiding in, Makami unconsciously nodded in approval.

Tatsumi sighed, looking away from Madara, one arm across her stomach and the other brushing though her hair. 

“It’s nothing official, niichan.  And who knows if it will go anywhere.”  Tatsumi's eyes flicked back to his, her lips quirking up on one side into a slight smirk.  “Hashirama-sama sent him to make sure I was fulfilling my part of the Uchiha Clan’s ‘Inter-Village Bonding’”—her hands formed air quotes as her eyebrows rose sarcastically—“requirements.  He’s to monitor my interactions with the Inuzuka for the next few weeks.  This, of course, is need to know.  As for our relationship… we just…" she trialled off, shrugging as she looked for the right words, "get along.  Surprisingly.  But I’m an Uchiha before I’m a woman.  I know what my Clan requires of me.”

Madara answered with a “Hn,” of approval and a curt nod of his head. 

Uchiha had a knack for lies and deception—outside of their genjutsu skills—but Tatsumi had always been particularly crafty.  One wouldn’t think it of her at first; her personality was playful at best, and mocking at worst.  But most people didn’t realise both of those fell under the category of mischief, and mischief could be just as benign as it was dangerous.  Not for the first time, Madara was glad Tatsumi loved him.  An Uchiha’s love—in any form—was unflinching and everlasting.  An Uchiha would do a great many horrible things for love.  It was best not to test that bond.

‘ _I shouldn’t have doubted her intentions even for a moment_ ,’ Madara found himself thinking.  While he was off worrying, she was crafting an intricate ruse for them all to hide behind.  But there were still holes in her explanation.  It was counter-intuitive to bring those things up, but with their audience still in attendance, there was no helping it.  Madara would just have to trust that she had a satisfying answer. 

“You’re only scheduled to be here once a week, _imouto_.”  Madara chose to call her ‘sister’ to remind Makami just how close the cousins were.  It would have one of two effects; either Makami would become more suspicious, thinking that Madara was blinded by bias, or he would back off, realising that it was not safe for him to be questioning the loyalty of one Madara held in such high regard.  It was hard to tell which way paranoia would take Makami, but it was also a declaration of loyalty.  Madara was not afraid to let anyone know that messing with his younger siblings—whether they shared parents or not—would bring down all of his (exceptional) wrath.

“After our first visit, Kakashi-san noted that some of the ninken appeared to be in rough shape,” she replied, answering his implied question.  “He insinuated that I wasn’t doing all that I could for the Inuzuka.  I decided to increase the number of visits, to expedite both the checkups and the completion of their tutelage.”  Tatsumi smirked, her next sentence meant especially for Makami.  “The Inuzuka vets are not learning as fast as I anticipated, even though I _quadrupled_ the amount of time it would take me to teach an _Uchiha_ medic.”

Madara’s answering smirk was half at Tatsumi’s cunning and half in pride; the Uchiha truly were the best at _everything_ … or, at least, _they_ thought so.  It was a weakness that could be exploited laughingly easily, especially with the older generations.

Up in _different_ tree—as to keep ‘them’ from locking in on his position—Makami smirked in approval.

Tatsumi continued, fanning the fire, “I’m still trying to find a balance between my expectations and their ability.  I'll probably have to spread the lessons out a bit more, over time.  It seems that I’m overwhelming them with information.  But until I check over all the ninken, I want to be here every other day.”

“And will Kakashi be present at all these lessons?”

“For the foreseeable future, yes.”  Tatsumi smiled, then asked, innocently, “Is that a problem?”

Madara just stared at her for a moment, as if evaluating her for any deception or ulterior motive.  In truth, he was stretching out his senses, trying to pin down Makami’s current location.  He found the paranoid veteran hiding in a bush, slightly behind Tatsumi and to the left—Madara's eleven o'clock. 

This was not ideal.  The next question Madara planned to ask was one he was burning to know the answer to.  Whether or not the answer was truthful, and whether Madara could keep his face straight was another issue.  Madara silently damned Kakashi and his ability to make all of Madara’s practiced discipline fly out the window.  He should have never come to the Inuzuka compound.

“And why has he been… assisting you, so… _closely_ , with the ninken?”  Madara silently thanked his ancestors for the ability to pose the question without choking up.  And then he cursed them for damning him with this blasted possessiveness.  Madara could remember how his stoic father would snap when someone came too close to his mother.  And the way Izuna continually sabotaged—ah but it would do no good to get lost in memories.

Tatsumi—in tune to his inner struggle and still playing her role to perfection—smirked, the look clearly spelling Mischief with a capital M. 

“Well, if I have to work overtime, then he should too, wouldn’t you agree?”  The pleasure in her eyes was unmistakable, although the intensity seemed to outweigh the value of her words.  Something else was going on here, but Madara didn’t know what. 

Tatsumi’s plans could lead one to glory or the inferno—although sometimes that meant the same thing.  Madara was immediately wary, but he didn’t let that bleed into his posture.  This was still an act, and he still had a role to play.  Whatever ulterior motive Tatsumi had for bringing Kakashi around, it would just have to wait until later.  Madara—who was only ever religious in the presence of his unpredictable cousin—prayed that this ever-more complicated ruse wouldn’t end in disaster. 

So instead of scrunching his brows and leveling her with a scrutinizing look, he smirked, as if pleased with her subtle sadism.  “How… generous of you, sweet _imouto_.”  He even chuckled for effect. 

Tatsumi tried very hard not to laugh; it occurred to her that, in another universe, Madara would play the perfect villain.  It was a good thing he had her, Izuna, and now Kakashi, to keep him in line.

“But explain this,” Madara began, as his smile turned sharp.  Unfortunately, even though he knew the answer was innocent, he didn’t have to fake the suspicion.  “What has Kakashi been doing all this time, in your _office?_   Do you not think it _dangerous_ for the Senju to be so close to the Sharingan’s secrets—their Keeper, even?”

“I know the _Laws_ , Madara,” Tatsumi scoffed, raising an indignant eyebrow.  She didn’t have to fake her offense at such an accusation.  “Do you really think I would give anything away?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Tatsumi folded her arms, her head tilted up and to the side.  It was the Uchiha equivalent of rolling one’s eyes.  But while Tatsumi often got away with signs of disrespect in private, this was public, and Madara could not allow it.  Swiftly, but careful not to hurt her, Madara took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her head sharply to face him.  He moved closer, crowding her space, using his height and broader frame to loom over her.

Tatsumi uncrossed her arms, letting them fall limply to her sides, and affected the look of one properly chastised.  Her eyes were focused on his feet, so Madara gently shook her chin to bring her gaze to his.  Tatsumi sighed, locking their eyes, but took her time to answer.

“He’s good company, Madara.  That’s all.  He’s… he’s witty, he’s so… calm.  And steady.  He reminds me a bit of… of…” Tatsumi’s eyes squeezed shut when she couldn’t finish the sentence.

Understanding what she couldn’t say, but confused, Madara pressed on.  “Kakashi is far more relaxed than Tatsuki ever was.”

“Only in front of others.  Tatsuki knew what was expected of him, and he played the role perfectly.  I think only Asha and I ever truly knew him…”

There was a pregnant pause, which always followed when Tatsumi mentioned her deceased twin brother.  Her grief was no secret amongst the Uchiha Clan, or the fact that she chose to isolate herself from everyone except for her sister-in-law Asha, her niece Michika, and Izuna (although the latter was not by choice—Izuna wouldn’t butt out of her life no matter how much Tatsumi ignored him).  Part of the scandal of seeing Kakashi with an Uchiha was that it was _Tatsumi_ , not just for her skills as an ophthalmologist, but because she had become somewhat of a recluse.

Makami, from behind a broken log, felt rightfully ashamed at bringing up such a painful memory for his clanswoman.

“Kikkun and Kakashi-san have many differences, to be sure,” Tatsumi added, using her old nickname for her brother in order to pour on the sentiment—she was not above using any means necessary to get any ruse across, even if it meant using her dead twin in her alibi.  She knew that Tatsuki, if he could watch from beyond the grave, would be glad that he could still help her—even if it was for something as petty as an attempt to garner pity in order to misdirect a nosy Uchiha.  He’d probably even find it funny.  “But, if you knew Kikkun as I do”—not did, because while Tatsuki might be dead, he was still with her, even if just in memories—“you would see the similarities.”

Madara’s hand had dropped back to his side by this point, and he got the strange feeling that Tatsumi was trying to tell him something, but he just couldn’t figure out what.

“Even _Asha_ likes him, niichan.”  This was a feat, because Asha had only liked three people in her life; her late-husband, her daughter, and her sister-in-law.  “Not only does he know sign language—on top of the Senju code, and the new Konoha code—but he’s an engineering genius.  Did you know, he can fix an oven so that it lights without a match?”

Madara vaguely recalled Hashirama bragging about his self-lighting oven, and brushing that off as nonsense.  What did Madara know about ovens, anyways?  He never cooked.  However, it seemed that this was both uncommon and highly desirable.  But what was Kakashi doing, going around making modifications to people’s _ovens_?  He was a ninja, not a mechanic…

“He also fixed the leaky tap in Asha’s laundry room, the three shorted pot lights in my back office, the uneven cupboard door under my sink, and he’s coming by Asha’s to help us paint Michika’s room orange, of all the garish colours.  She’s too old for pink now, apparently, and she’s been complaining about it for _months_.”

Madara continued to stare, stunned, at what Kakashi was doing for Tatsumi and her small family.  It seemed that Kakashi truly could not let a debt go unpaid—even if that debt was owed by order of her Clan Head.  It did provide a great alibi, however.

Tatsumi looked up at him coyly though her dark lashes, adding with a small, but undeniably mischievous smile, “You would be surprised at what lies underneath the underneath.”

Madara was not sure if that was an innuendo, but he was suddenly overtaken with the image of Kakashi, bare except for his damned mask, lying supine on Madara’s futon, Kakashi teasingly tracing one hand down his own chest, over his taut stomach to the to the faint trail of coarse silvery hair—

This was not the time to be thinking about that.

Madara cleared his throat, affecting a stern mien once more.  “Not only are you letting him into your office, but your home, and Asha’s as well?  Did you ever think that all this closeness was in order to steal the secrets of the Sharingan?”

This time Tatsumi actually scoffed. 

“Madara,” she started, a hint of derision in her voice, “you know I don’t keep _written_ records.”  She tapped her temple in emphasis.  “ _Plus_ , the information he would be seeking is either nowhere near my residence, or doesn’t exist.  You don’t _truly_ think he could fix a _Sharingan_ , the most sophisticated doujutsu to ever exist, by watching me preform the most _basic_ eye examinations on _ninken_ , of all things.  They’re not even _human!_   Only an idiot would try to use what I’m teaching the Inuzuka for _their ninken_ on a human eye!”

From his new tree, Makami blushed in a strange combination of anger and embarrassment.

“He could certainly try, of course,” Tatsumi added.  “But all he would be able to do is check for cataracts, far- and nearsightedness, drain fluid buildup, in addition to learning our more efficient method for reducing inflammation—which he could learn from even beginner iryou-nin.  In fact, Hashirama-sama could probably do that for him—I did show these techniques to him first, after all.   So unless you’re going to accuse me of… of… _treason_ , then I don’t see what the issue is.”  Tatsumi locked eyes with Madara, almost daring him to lay down such charges and put her in shackles.

“Hn,” was Madara’s only response.  He had to admit, Tatsumi had weaved not just a believable lie, but a fantastic illusion.  Where one might poke holes, she had erected defences in the form of barbs or flattery.  She had really gone above and beyond for this entire ruse, and while Madara wanted to attribute that to Tatsumi’s love for him, he couldn’t help the part of his mind that whispered that it was her love for another.  Kakashi did seem to benefit the most from this entire situation, and there was still the issue of why Kakashi would make his way to Tatsumi’s practice without someone dragging him there. 

Although the idea that Tatsumi could fall in love with Kakashi so quickly was a bit absurd, Madara wondered if the same could be said for Kakashi.  It might not be love on Kakashi’s side, not yet, but it could certainly be something that could develop into such strong feelings. 

Kakashi had always been aloof, and hid his thoughts and his motives from everyone, even his brothers.  Could Kakashi be hiding a well of deep emotion behind his masks—both physical and metaphorical?  That orange book… it was a story of romance and deep connections.  Could Kakashi have so quickly connected with Tatsumi?  Which of her lies were for Makami, and which were for Madara?  That was the trouble with fantastic liars, you always wondered how much of what they said was the truth.

Madara was so lost in his despairing thoughts once more, he didn’t even notice the kunai heading straight for his face. 

It was only his time honed instincts which saved him.

Looking down at the blade he now held in his hand, he noticed that the tip and edges were blunted, the wrapping was frayed, and the weight was off—it was much lighter than a standard kunai.  It could only be one thing…

“A training kunai?” Madara murmured, casting his gaze to find the perpetrator.

“Michika!  Saeka!” Tatsumi called to her niece and her niece’s friend, the names transforming into a reprimand.  Michika—standing frozen in her stance across from Saeka, the young Inuzuka heir—took a deep breath before nervously looking over at the other girl, trying to delay the inevitable. 

Michika—as Tatsumi’s eager apprentice and secretary—had been accompanying Tatsumi (and now, Kakashi) to the Inuzuka compound on her many visits, and had become fast friends with Saeka.  The two girls were around the same age, and both eager to please their much adored role-models—Saeka’s being her mother Unari, the Inuzuka Clan Head.  The duo had been sparring nearby, and one of their practice kunai must have ricocheted in Madara’s direction—such was his (bad) luck, apparently.

When Tatsumi pointed at the ground next to her impatiently, the two girls and Saeka’s dark-furred ninken, Tanseimaru (named for her startling icy-blue eyes) ran over quickly, neither wanting to test Tatsumi’s patience. 

“Yes, oba-sensei?” Michika asked, ignoring Madara’s presence—and the damning training kunai in his hand—for her aunt.  The snub earned her two raised eyebrows and sternly crossed arms from Tatsumi, which was one step away from the impatiently tapping foot—nothing good came when Tatsumi impatiently tapped her foot. 

Steeling herself, Michika sighed before turning to Madara and affecting the decorum she used at Sharin-go, Sharin-gan. 

“Hello oji-sama.”  Michika bowed respectfully. “Please forgive my clumsiness—”

“ _Our_!” Seaka interjected, Tanseimaru barking in agreement.

 _“—my_ clumsiness,” Michika continued.  “It won’t happen again.”

“It was our fault too!” Saeka insisted, staring boldly up at Madara.  This earned her a raised eyebrow.  Saeka looked at Michika, confused, before realising her error and bowing herself.  “Please forgive us, Uchiha-s-sama,” Saeka had trouble with the honourific, unused to addressing people so formally—the Inuzuka didn’t care much for titles.  “It was an accident.  It _won’t_ happen again.”

Madara examined the girls coolly for a moment, before oh so generously bequeathing them with a “Hn,” of recognition, though he continued to stare at Michika, pointedly. 

Michika shot Tatsumi an exasperated look, but with Tatsumi looking just as stern, her hands tucked in her sleeves, Michika knew it wasn’t enough. 

“Oji-sama, this is Inuzuka Saeka-chan, Inuzuka-sama’s daughter, and her bonded ninken partner, Tanseimaru-chan.  Saeka-chan, Tanseimaru-chan, this is my Clan Head, Uchiha Madara-sama.”

When Madara didn’t reply to the perfectly executed introduction with anything more than a perfunctory nod, he got his own pointed look—that went completely ignored—which earned him a smack to the back of the head.  Too dignified to complain (in public, Tatsumi was in for a scolding once he got her alone if his twitching eyebrow was anything to go by) Madara turned to Saeka with a raised eyebrow, who—after her own stern look from Tatsumi—sighed dejectedly and bowed appropriately, gaining her a proper head nod from Madara in turn.

“Pleasure,” he drawled, already done with the formalities, but when he turned back to Tatsumi to give her a look which frequently meant ‘what in the blazes did you do that for?’ Tatsumi was gone.  Or rather, she wasn’t where Madara expected to see her. 

Tatsumi had kneeled next to Tanseimaru, her hand giving the ninken apologetic scritches behind the ears, while she murmured, ‘Don’t worry, Tanseimaru-chan, ‘Dara-chan—”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Madara interrupted, though he went ignored.

“—is just a grump, and he’s in a bad mood today,” Tatsumi finished, her fingers drawing symbols in the puppy’s fur that only an Inuzuka would recognize.  Symbols Kakashi—of all people—had taught her, to get the ninken to sit still, to listen, or to hunt.  One last pat, and Tanseimaru’s ears perked, her nose seeming to catch a scent on the wind.

Tanseimaru bolted towards a bush, Saeka hot on her heels, recognising the command and knowing better than to question what Tatsumi had ordered. 

While teaching the Inuzuka ninken, Tatsumi had been afforded a level of command in order to assist her in their tutelage.  In respect of Tatsumi’s position and the knowledge she was sharing with them—for the benefit of their beloved partners, no less—the Inuzuka tended to listen to her orders, even when they seemed farfetched or out of the blue.

Tanseimaru sniffed around the bush before picking up on a trail, leading her to a tree, and then another, until she stopped at the base of a tall Mokutonka (a tree made from Hashirama’s mokuton jutsu), digging under some loose foliage.  She barked twice before letting out three yips, and then growled.

“Did you find something, Tanseimaru?” Saeka asked, crouching down and sniffing herself, unable to stop her own growl when she detected the scent Tanseimaru had picked up on.  “There’s someone here, Tatsumi-sensei.”  Saeka fangs seeming to elongate as her already slit-pupils sharpened even further, the red Inuzuka seals on each of her cheeks turning jagged in turn.

And oh, what a perfect excuse for Madara and Tatsumi to flash on their Sharingan and scan for the interloper they had been pretending not to notice.  It was hardly planned at all, no, why would you even think to suggest that?

Makami was an accomplished enough ninja to replace himself with a branch in order to escape to another location each time Tanseimaru had zeroed in on his scent, even talented enough to hide his scent completely—at least to novice sensors, like Saeka and Tanseimaru.  But he stood no chance of hiding himself from Madara—who held the strongest Sharingan in the Clan—or Tatsumi—who had mastered seeing that which was hidden as a part of her training to be a Sharingan ophthalmologist.  Madara and Tatsumi zeroed in on Makami almost instantly, their special eyes allowing them to pinpoint the exact location of the presence they had previously only had a vague lock on.

Faster than most Sharingan could track, Madara was on the branch behind Makami, kunai casually pressed up against his clansmen’s throat.  Tatsumi followed barely a millisecond behind, crouching in front of the interloper.  The three tomoe of her own Sharingan were spiraling quickly, almost blending into each other.

“I told you I would handle the situation, didn’t I, Makami?” Madara drawled into Makami’s ear, tone even, his delivery cool despite the blade he held at Makami’s throat. 

The casual air was far more menacing than his ire would have been, as Madara’s anger was common place—hard _not_ to hear and laugh at, when Izuna, Tatsumi, Hashirama, and—with increasing regularity—Kakashi, managed to elicit a childish infuriation in Madara.  But this calm tone, the careful, mocking nonchalance—that was the voice Madara’s enemies heard before they met their untimely demise. 

Makami tried and failed to swallow the lump in his throat, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple causing the kunai to draw a drop of blood.

“My my,” Tatsumi’s voice was laden with that same faux, over-ripe sweetness, the type that poisoners used to hide the bite of their most lethal toxins, “spying on your Clan Head—on another Clan’s territory, no less—is a very serious offence.”  Her smile was all teeth as she bent closer to whisper in his other ear, “tsk, tsk, Makami- _jiji_ , an old man like you should know better than that.”

Makami felt a chill run down his spine, his mind blank as he tried to sputter out apologies.  The weight of Madara’s chakra, however, was stopping them in his throat, while the absence of Tatsumi’s in front of him—even though he could see and feel her, right there—was equally off-putting.

“How many of our clanspeople have you been spying on in your old age, Makami?” Madara’s voice remained cool, as if he were asking about the weather instead of making a grievous accusation. 

Clan loyalty was held sacred amongst most clans; the penalty for betraying that trust was punishable by excommunication at best, and at worst, death.  However, within those clans which had kekkei genkai, or doujutsu as valuable as the Sharingan and the Byakugan, betrayals of that loyalty were held to almost religious proportions.

“I-I—” Makami tried to get out, but his words were stuck in his throat, the immense pressure from Madara’s chakra making the otherwise hardened warrior seem like a meek novice.  Tatsumi affected an air of sympathy, her face scrunching into an over exaggerated pout, brows scrunched, eyes wide, bottom lip jutting out. 

“Poor Makami-chan,” she cooed, one hand moving to brush back a lock of Makami’s hair.  He flinched at her touch, and only Marada’s quick reflexes saved the paranoid man from accidentally splitting his own throat open on the blade against his neck. 

Makami was not a weak willed man—he had fought in many battles, had stared death in the face and come out victorious.  But nothing he had faced could compare to the sheer weight of Madara’s chakra at his back. 

Madara was a different sort of opponent, in a completely separate class of his own.  His strength was comparable to a heavenly hammer that fell from the sky to crush you—and all that surrounded you—completely.  There was no avoiding him, no defence, nothing to be done once he set his sights on your destruction.  Tatsumi, on the other hand, was the snake in the grass, slithering up to you silently, catching you unaware; before you knew it, you were either paralyzed from her venom or slowly being crushed to death as she constricted around you.  Makami felt very much like he was caught in her grasp, held tighter and tighter as it became increasingly hard to breathe, trapped in the shadow of the hammer, waiting for it to drop.

“I-I only have—the Clan—the Clan’s protection—I only want the Clan protected!” Makami finally managed to get out, his tone desperate as he implored them to listen—to understand.  He was frightened—Makami was perpetually in a state of heightened awareness, of anxiety, always working to get rid of that fear.  To feel it from his Clan Head… it was wrong; he should be safe amongst his kin.  And yet, here, in this moment where he had only been trying to help, he felt petrified.

Tatsumi, seeming to read his thoughts, reached out once more, this time to pat Makami’s hand sympathetically while Madara tsk’d in disapproval.

“The Clan’s protection?” Madara repeated indulgently, his tone alone causing a cold sweat to break out on the back of Makami’s neck.  “And do you think that I—Uchiha Madara, the Head of the Uchiha Clan, _your_ Clan Head—am not equipped to ascertain whether or not there is a threat to the Clan?”

“N-no, Madara-sama I—”

Madara tsk’d again.  “Hn.  Well then, do you think I am unable to _protect_ our Clan against a threat?”

“O-of course n-not, Ma-Madara-sama.”

“Then,” Madara’s voice dropped an octave, “why are you _here_?”

“Madara-s-sama, I—I didn’t mean, I meant no disrespect!  I-I didn’t—”

“Did you think that I would be _soft_ because Tatsumi is my _cousin_?”

“No I—”

“Did you think I would let Tatsumi do whatever she wanted?  Did you think I wouldn’t check into this issue because of our relationship?”

“I—Madara-sama—”

“And how could you have thought that Tatsumi—third in line to lead this Clan, should anything happen to me or my brother, Kami-sama forbid—would betray our clan?”

“NO!  I didn’t—no, no!  But-but _love_ , it makes—it makes even the strongest into fools, Madara-sama, you know that an Uchiha’s love is all consuming, we can’t help it—”

“Then you think Tatsumi is a fool?  Did you hear that, imouto?  He thinks you’re a _fool_.”

Tatsumi chuckled.  “I only see one fool here”—Tatsumi briefly locked eyes with Madara before her gaze flicked back to Makami, eliciting a glare from Madara at the implication, though that wasn’t enough to hide the blush dusting his cheeks—“and it looks like he’s in trouble…” 

“Hn,” Madara agreed.  “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“I-I—” Makami seemed to deflate, realising that his reasoning was being dismissed as excuses and disrespect.  There was only one thing left for him to do. “Madara-sama, Tatsumi-sensei, please f-forgive my offences.  I meant n-n-no disrespect, I was only—I was concerned about the-the eye-thief.”

Madara felt a fire burning in his gut at the thrice-damned nickname he himself had once bestowed Kakashi.  It was an anger that was becoming more and more familiar, and burning all the hotter every time he heard it.  It was not an anger he could show to his kin, however; it was not an anger he—as Clan Head—was permitted to express.  So Madara bit back on the vitriol that was boiling in his chest, purposefully loosened his grip on his kunai, and took a deep—albeit silent—breath to steady himself. 

Sheathing his kunai, Madara finally released Makami.  Automatically, Makami dropped to his knees in _dogeza—_ the most formal and repentant apology one could offer—bowing his head first to Tatsumi, and then spinning around and bowing to Madara, leaving his forehead pressed to the tree branch despite the awkward perch.

“We are no longer at war with the Senju, Makami.  They are our allies.  And while I understand the difficulties in trusting our former enemy, the only way to maintain this position—to maintain our newfound peace—is to strengthen the bonds between our clans.  Whether in the form of friendship or romance”—it was only his strength of will that stopped Madara from choking on that word—“those new connections are what make it easier for us to trust one another.  Without them, there would be nothing but their word stopping them from betraying us.”

Madara crossed his arms across his chest, watching Makami’s trembling form.  Unconsciously, Madara’s tone softened when he continued.

“While it would be foolish to give away our clan secrets to anyone outside the clan—not just the Senju—our partnership requires more than just the basic level of interaction.  Kakashi is a high-ranking Senju; as the third youngest brother, he is in charge if anything should something happen to Hashirama or Tobirama, Kami-sama forbid.  He is of the same station as Tatsumi, and their acquaintance can only put the Uchiha in a better position.”  Though his words were true, they tasted like ash on his tongue.  But Madara had always been an excellent tactician, and hadn’t become the powerhouse he was by letting his emotions get the better of him.  So, he pushed on, seemingly unaffected. 

“Whatever the nature of their relationship, I trust Tatsumi’s alliances.  Don’t forget what happened to her brother, Makami.  She would not aid a thief, especially after what she went through.  Shame on you for thinking thus, and for harassing her.  You should be deferring to _her_ ; you accused her of treason, you’ve only wasted my time.”

Makami spun around again, head still bowed as he faced Tatsumi once more.

“Please, Tatsumi-sensei, forgive me,”                                                  

“Maa, Makami, you’re lucky the ninken have put me in a good mood," Tatsumi said.  "You let your paranoia blind you, and your prejudice hurt someone in your clan.”  She crouched, using one hand to gently raise Makami’s face so that he was looking at her.  “I give you my word, on my beloved brother’s soul, that I will _never_ do something to hurt the Clan, although I shouldn’t have to.”

“I-I’m sorry, Tatsumi-sensei—”

“I know.  But sorry isn’t always enough.”  Tatsumi stood, releasing Makami’s face, which twisted into a look of trepidation.  She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear before turning her back on both men.  “I hope you’ve learnt something from this,” she said, before dropping to the ground and walking back to the two girls and the ninken who had been staring up at the adults in some sort of apprehensive awe.

“It seems as though you’re in need of something to occupy all your free time," Madara began, an idea blooming even as he spoke.  "I think working with one of the other clans will do you some good.  It might teach you something.”  Madara turned to look over the training fields, searching for a glance of sliver as he spoke.  “I will have something for you to do by the end of the week.  Come find me then,” Madara finished, before making his own descent.  He followed after Tatsumi, who was herding the trio back to the Inuzuka training grounds.

Madara’s long strides and the fact that Tatsumi was trying to wrangle two young girls and a ninken meant he easily caught up to the group.  Tatsumi wasn’t even a little bit surprised to see him looming over her shoulder, even though his business should have been concluded at this point.

Upon his pursuit, Madara had anticipated that Tatsumi would ask him _why_ he was following.  With no reason to be there, and seeing as he wasn’t big on ‘proper goodbyes’ (when _he_ was the one leaving), it was strange for him to follow.  And so, Madara had—rather ingeniously, he felt—concocted the perfect excuse.

But Tatsumi was very pointedly _not_ asking.

It was infuriating.

If Tatsumi didn’t ask, how would she know Madara most certainly was not following just to get a glimpse of Kakashi?  No, he most definitely was not looking forward to seeing that vexing man. 

Madara didn’t care to see how Kakashi and Tatsumi interacted, didn’t care to know if his musings on their relationship were accurate, because _what would it matter_?  It didn’t matter if Kakashi was infatuated with Tatsumi.  It didn’t matter if Tatsumi was growing attached to Kakashi.  It didn’t matter if the two of them really were in love.  Not even a little.  Because Madara did not care about Kakashi and the things that he did.  Very pointedly did not care.  Madara’s only interest was that of a Clan Head; he wanted to see how Tatsumi’s lessons were going, and make sure that the Inuzuka were treating her with the appropriate amount of respect.  That was all.

That was all.

“I would like to evaluate how your lessons with the Inuzuka are going,” Madara finally said to Tatsumi, who had been congratulating the two girls on something.  He hadn’t been paying attention.

 _That was all_.

“Hn,” was Tatsumi’s only, infuriating, response.

“It’s my duty as your Clan Head to make sure they’re treating you with the proper respect.”

 _That was all_.

“Mmhmm.”  Tatsumi smiled indulgently this time, as if he were simple and she was humouring him.

“I will need to determine whether your teaching methods are effective.”

_That.  Was.  All._

This earned Madara a raised brow.

That was maybe a poor excuse, Madara conceded.  Still, he wouldn’t take it back.  Because he had no other reasons to be following Tatsumi back to the _kennels_ of all places—Madara could already feel his throat tightening and his eyes getting itchy and they were still outside.  He didn’t even know if Kakashi was still around.

Not that it mattered.

Madara hardly noticed when Michika, Saeka, and Tanseimaru left for one of the training fields.  He only peripherally noticed when Tatsumi took his arm to guide him in the correct direction.  He paid no mind as light dimmed and sound bled into an almost-silence, or when the smell of outside was replaced by stale air, metal, and dog fur (if one did not mention the less pleasant scents), although his allergies certainly did.  He was too busy looking for something else.

And then he saw it.  A flash of silver hair.

Tatsumi had taken them through the kennels and into the medical facilities specifically used by the Inuzuka veterinarians.  Through an open doorway, at the back of the room, sitting in—not by, _in_ —a small pen, covered in puppies— _puppies, of all the damned things_ —sat one Senju Kakashi.  He was even letting the mangy rascals _lick him_.  Kakashi’s single visible eye wasn’t curved into the happy crescent that denoted his normal smile.  Instead, his eye was open and crinkled as he laughed, light and carefree—‘ _Have I ever heard him laugh like that?’_ Madara wondered to himself—the puppies climbing him like a jungle gym as he murmured soft nonsense at them.

“Such a strong grip!” Kakashi said to one puppy who had caught his finger under its paws.

“Ooh, you’ve got a great bite already!” This was directed at another puppy nibbling on Kakashi’s forearm

“Woah, what an amazing jump!” was the congratulations Kakashi offered to the puppy that landed on top of his head.

“You’ve got such wonderful pups,” Kakashi said to _their mother_ , a great brown beast who was serving as Kakashi’s backrest, “you must be so proud.” 

The ninken mother concurred with a soft yip, before letting out a series of barks. 

Kakashi only laughed again.  “You’re definitely right,” he agreed— _agreed!_ —with whatever the ninken had said, and _'Since when did Kakashi understand_ dog _?'_

Kakashi was the only thing Madara could focus on.  He didn’t notice the two Inuzuka vets staring and cooing at the scene, he didn’t notice Tatsumi’s mocking smile in his direction, nor did he notice the pups’ father blocking the doorway into the room.  Well, until the huge beast started _growling_ at him.  That seemed to get _everyone_ ’ _s_ attention, except for Kakashi’s.

“Easy,” Tatsumi murmured to the black furred ninken standing in their way.  The top of the ninken’s head settled almost at Tatsumi’s collarbones.  She offered out her hand for a sniff, and once she had the ninken’s approval, patted him lightly on the head before making her way past.  Madara eyed the ninken suspiciously before offering his own hand.  Only, instead of sniffing him, the new father tried to bite Madara’s hand off.

Tatsumi and the two vets laughed.

“Don’t mind him, Uchiha-sama,” said one of the vets—a short woman with short hair cropped like a boy and a gruff voice. 

‘ _What sort of animals are these people?’_ Madara wondered. 

The vet continued, “He’s just being over protective.  You should probably wait over there, though.”

How presumptuous of that vet to assume she could tell Uchiha Madara what to do.  Still, Madara was in no mood to fight a dog, and had no interest in getting closer to the _rest_ of those unruly mongrels—Kakashi included.  Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb, eyeing the spectacle from a safe distance.

Tatsumi sashayed her way over to where Kakashi sat—' _She wasn’t walking like that earlier,'_ Madara noted—before carefully stepping over the short wall and into the pen with Kakashi.  Kneeling in front of Kakashi, Tatsumi scooped the puppy off of the man’s head and then ruffled his hair. 

RUFFLED.  

HIS.  

HAIR. 

Kakashi finally looked up from the puppy he was cradling in his arms to greet Tatsumi with a crescent-eyed, goofy smile.

“Having fun?” Tatsumi teased, placing the puppy in her arms on the hay-lined floor of the pen.

Kakashi chuckled.  “More, now that you’re here.”

They were flirting. 

They were _flirting_. 

 _They_ were _FLIRTING!_

The two vets cooed again and Madara felt his brow furrow.

“Well, playtime’s over, Kakashi-kun—”

KUN?

“—we need to give them their examinations now.  Then we’re done for today.”

“Aww, so soon?  I was enjoying our time together.”

 _OUR_ TIME?

“We’ll be back again soon, no need to pout.”

“Maa, so mean, sensei-chan.”

CHAN?

“You love it.”  Tatsumi smirked when her words caused Kakashi to blush.

BLUSH???

Tatsumi waved the two vets closer, explaining something to them while Kakashi—without prompting—rearranged the puppy in his arms and then angled it towards her.  She smiled her thanks briefly, not stopping her lecture, gently placing one hand on the puppy’s head while Kakashi held it still.  The motion required Tatsumi to move closer to Kakashi.  He had the puppy laid on its back, cradled in one arm against his chest, while his free hand held the puppy’s squirming legs down.  Tatsumi had to sit with her side almost pressing against Kakashi’s chest.

 _'She’s practically in his lap_ ,' Madara fumed, making to step towards them.  Only the growling ninken still blocking his path stopped him.

At the sound, Tatsumi caught Madara’s sizzling gaze and _winked_.

 _'She’s teasing me_ ,' Madara suddenly realised.  It didn’t stop his jealously from flaring when Tatsumi swatted at Kakashi’s legs, prompting them to open wider so she could kneel between them.  It didn’t matter that it was probably more comfortable for her to be closer, instead of leaning over.  It didn’t matter that they needed to keep the puppy as still as possible, as any sudden movements could cause irreparable damage to the puppy.  It didn’t matter that Tatsumi wasn’t interested in Kakashi that way.

What mattered was the way Tatsumi’s shoulder now rested against Kakashi’s chest.  The way her feet settled under Kakashi’s thigh.  The way their faces leaned together, so that both could get a good look at the puppy.  The way they seemed so _comfortable_ together, like they had known each other for years instead of days.  The way they could so casually occupy each other’s space, when—after knowing Kakashi for _years_ longer—Madara couldn’t say the same.  It wasn’t any potential romance which bothered Madara at this point.  It was their platonic bond.

Kakashi and Tatsumi _joked_.  They shared each other’s space, they communicated without words—they were _familiar_.  Madara wanted that.  He wanted Kakashi to know what he was thinking with just a glance.  He wanted Kakashi to joke and laugh and _smile upon seeing him_.  He wanted… he wanted Kakashi.

Fuck.

He really, really, really wanted Kakashi.

Rikudou Sennin be damned.

Madara had known, on some level, that he wanted Kakashi.  That wasn’t much of a revelation (at least, not a recent one).  Madara knew he wanted Kakashi’s attention, knew he wanted Kakashi to think of him and be _plagued_ by the unending thoughts—the way _Madara_ was plagued by relentless thoughts of Kakashi.  Madara knew that he wanted to get under Kakashi’s skin, knew that he wanted Kakashi to search him out and _want_ to be near him.  Madara knew that this desire was a combination of attraction, lust, and _sheer pettiness_.  Because if Madara had to be plagued by Kakashi, then _Kakashi damn well better be plagued by Madara_.  It was only fair, after all.

But if this rollercoaster of a day had taught Madara anything, it was that he wanted _more_ than that.  Madara didn’t just want an affair—the hot and fast affair he had believed would finally rid his system of his desire for Kakashi once and for all.  Madara realised he wanted to be curled around Kakashi the way Tatsumi so casually fit her way into Kakashi’s space, as if such an occurrence was so commonplace it was unnoticeable.  Madara realised he wanted to share soft smiles and inside jokes and all those other offhand, light moments that meant two people were so tangled up in each other they couldn’t be separated without great pain on both parts. 

Madara realised, in watching his cousin, his crush, and a litter of puppies—eyes itching from pet dander—that he wanted to be Kakashi’s friend, too.

The implications of that were terrifying.

Lust combined with friendship turned into romance and then love, and an Uchiha’s love was a dangerous thing.  Madara had done horrible things in the name of his love.  And perhaps, most dangerous of all, Madara did not regret any of those actions—would do them again in a heartbeat.  He had killed unarmed civilians—men, women, children, _infants_ , and everything in between.  He had torn cities asunder, burnt crops and salted the earth so that recovery was futile.  He had made parents watch as he slaughtered their children, had torn eyes from skulls so that they might know how it felt when _their_ _kin_ had done as much to his own.  Madara could not be considered a good person, not by Senju standards—not by _Kakashi’s_ standards.  Not that it mattered.  Not that Madara’s feelings changed anything—now, or in the future.

Madara did not mind being the villain if it meant protecting those precious to him.  Madara did what he had to, to protect his precious people—even if they didn’t appreciate it.  Even if they never knew the lengths he had to go to.  Even if he was never given recognition.  Even if his actions were answered with scorn.  And as the leader of the Uchiha Clan, he had so many to protect. 

For years—under the guidance of his father—Madara had believed that brute strength, ruthlessness, and power were the tools he needed to keep his people safe.  He did not mind the black marks on his soul, did not care when others called him ‘Monster,’ or ‘Demon,’ or even ‘Beast.’

When Madara was a boy and had first met Hashirama, he had believed that there was another way to protect people.  Hashirama dreamed of a village where everyone worked together instead of fighting against each other; not just a place but a new era, where children didn’t have to fight because there were more than enough shinobi around to support those who could not support themselves.  There was no need for the bloodthirstiness his parents had instilled in him as a young boy, because there would not be the competition for missions.  Ninja would no longer fight ninja, but instead simply protect and fight for those who could not fight for themselves. 

Through garnering relationships, Hashirama’s might and the rise of Konohagakure no Sato was proof of that brand of power; Hashirama had shown that the hand of friendship could be far more formidable than the strongest jutsu.  But that was Hashirama’s power.  Even Hashirama’s kekkei genkai—the mokuton—was a symbol of life, of growth, of all that thrived in the sun.  Through his friendship with Hashirama, Madara had learnt that there were other forms of strength, other methods to protect people.

But those were not Madara’s methods, no matter how deeply he insinuated himself into the village, no matter how close his friendships with the Senju, no matter how his perception of the world had changed.  And his methods were not the problem, not in Madara’s opinion at least.

The problem with loving Kakashi, however—not that Madara believed he loved Kakashi now, not completely (he did not feel so entrenched that there was no hope to untangle himself, to guard his heart and never think of that damnable Senju again)—was that some of Kakashi’s enemies were Madara’s own clansmen. 

The Uchiha had strict laws against doujutsu theft, and while part of the treaty between the Senju and Uchiha required the Uchiha to stop pursuing Kakashi’s Sharingan, it did not stop the resentment.  The Uchiha wanted vengeance—what they would call _justice_ —for whoever had been slain so that Kakashi could have that eye.  Even if Kakashi explained to the Uchiha how he was _gifted_ his Sharingan, they likely wouldn’t believe him. 

The intensity of the Uchiha Clan’s hatred towards Kakashi had died down, somewhat, after Kakashi had saved Madara’s life—several times, in fact—as well as the lives of other Uchiha, using that very same Sharingan he was scorned for.  The anger was still there—Madara could not imagine a time where it would fully be gone—but next to it was a reluctant admiration. 

Madara still did not know why Kakashi saved his life that first time, when the Uchiha and Senju were at war—still did not understand why Kakashi would save the life of _any_ Uchiha.  But Kakashi constantly put his own life on the line in order to protect people—regardless of which clan they belonged to, even before the village and alliances were formed.  If there was a ninja of the Land of Fire in danger, Kakashi would be there to help.  It was maddening.  There were so many layers to Kakashi, so many things Madara did not understand.  But he wanted to.  He really, really, really wanted to.

What would that mean, for Madara?  For the Uchiha?  What would it mean to love Kakashi, to have a Senju with a Sharingan as a lover?  Was it even worth the trouble?  As infatuated as Madara currently was, he firmly believed that with distance and time, he could shake these feeling for Kakashi.  Madara felt that he _should_ , for the sake of his clan. 

But he didn’t want to.

Was this yet another thing he would have to give up for the betterment of his Clan?

Madara’s eyes focused once more on the scene in front of him.  Tatsumi was taking the puppy from Kakashi’s arms, like a mother relieving a father of their child.  Another puppy was already clambering into Kakashi’s lap, vying for his attention.  Kakashi indulged the puppy with a soft smile, holding him up to his face and being rewarded with an onslaught of puppy kisses. 

Tatsumi flicked Kakashi lightly on his temple, causing the man to affect an exaggeratedly injured mien.  She picked up another puppy and instructed it to “kiss the fool’s booboo better,” eliciting a look of pleasant surprise and then raucous laughter from Kakashi—even as the puppy chased after him to deliver said kiss(es).  If it weren’t for the puppies’ mother sitting behind Kakashi, Madara thought Kakashi would have fallen over from the strength of his guffaws.  Tatsumi couldn’t contain her own pleased grin, either ignoring or not noticing the way the two Inuzuka vets murmured over how cute the two were with each other.

As Madara watched the two friends, he realised two things.  First, it didn’t matter if Kakashi was precious to Madara or not; Kakashi was unintentionally carving a place in Tatsumi’s heart.  Even though the bond was platonic—Tatsumi would not be acting so familiar with Kakashi in front of Madara if it were romantic, knowing of Madara’s feelings and how cruel that would be (so he hoped)—Kakashi was fast becoming important to her.  And so, regardless of Madara’s own feelings, Kakashi was already someone Madara had to protect—if not for his own sake, than for Tatsumi’s.  And, along with Izuna, Tatsumi was one of the few he would do— _had done_ —anything for.

Madara had already carried out despicable acts on Kakashi’s behalf—even if they could be hidden under the veil of protecting their village.  While fighting against his kin went against everything Madara had been taught—everything Madara _believed_ in—this afternoon’s carefully constructed deception, as well as the lesson imparted behind the ruse, had Madara feeling as though it might not be impossible to sway them.  Tatsumi had instantly hated Kakashi upon finding out about his gifted Sharingan, and yet here they were two weeks later, working together—smiling and joking and laughing all the while.

The second thing Madara realised—and was perhaps the most embarrassing of all the things that had happened that day—was that his jealousy and possessiveness was so strong, it even stretched to dogs.  Part of it was that Madara was being ignored—‘ _how can some dumb mutts completely enamour such a distant man?’_ —but mostly it was how free and open Kakashi was acting. 

With the puppies and their mother, there were no walls, no layers of distance artfully constructed to keep people away.  Kakashi was acting—to quote Tatsumi—like a fool.  A besotted fool, who seemed free of the ever-present weight which slumped his shoulders and darkened his eye.  Madara had never considered that Kakashi looked _tense_ , with all the effort the man put into affecting the posture of wilted cabbage.  But seeing how relaxed Kakashi was now, Madara could not explain it any other way.

Whatever stress or trauma that would normally be weighing Kakashi down was not present in this moment; his full attention was on the puppies surrounding him.  Kakashi did not seem to have enough time to relapse, as once one pup left his hold, another stole his attention. 

Madara had heard of ninja who had suffered severe trauma—trauma that not even time could shake—regaining pieces of themselves with the help of an animal companion.  Madara had his hawks; when days were particularly bleak and human companionship seemed more like a chore, just the simple work of tending to them was enough to take his mind off his sorrows.  As well, the nincats of the Uchiha clan could unfailingly sense when Madara was having a bad day, and were thoughtful and caring enough to curl up with him, providing quiet companionship. 

In a sudden fit of understanding, Madara realised that Kakashi only truly had his adopted brothers and his book for comfort.  Kakashi had no friends, lest you consider Izuna and himself, which wasn’t saying much; Izuna still hated Kakashi (would probably hate him more, now), and Madara’s relationship with Kakashi was, well… ‘tumultuous’ was a kind word.  Their interactions consisted of Kakashi driving Madara mad, and Madara pretending to hate him.  And sure, that hatred _was_ pretend (now, at least) and Madara was fairly certain that Kakashi _knew_ that, and tolerated the attitude (why else would Madara seek him out so much?) but it clearly wasn’t enough. 

Hashirama was busy trying to run the village and his clan.  Tobirama was even more quiet and introverted than Kakashi, if that were possible, secluding himself in dark corners to run his ‘experiments’ or what have you.  Madara suddenly realised that he didn’t know what Kakashi did on a day-to-day basis, nor how he occupied his spare time. 

Did Kakashi simply train and reread that same book over and over again?  Sure, Kakashi had his missions, his position as one of Hashirama’s advisors, and his obligations to the Senju Clan, but that was hardly a social life.  Madara himself only saw Kakashi _maybe_ once a week, with how busy he was with running the Uchiha Clan, advising Hashirama, and his own missions.  Kakashi’s life must be a lonely one.

The thought cut.

Madara was suddenly ashamed of himself.  How could he have felt jealousy towards Tatsumi, or even these pups?  What right did he have?  Kakashi obviously needed more than just his brothers; he needed friends and companions and people to make him smile and laugh freely.  Madara did not know Kakashi’s feelings towards Tatsumi, just as he did not know Kakashi’s feelings towards himself.  But whether platonic or romantic, did Kakashi not _deserve_ such joy, from wherever or _whomever_ it came from? 

Kakashi had obviously lost his first family—whichever branch of the Hatake Clan Kakashi was related to must be deceased, otherwise Madara could not see Kakashi allowing himself to be adopted into another.  Along with their mastery of kenjutsu and their lightning-natured chakra, the Hatake were also known for their summoning contract with the lower canines.  It was said that each member signed the contract at a young age, summoning their first ninpups and growing and training together.  But Madara had never seen Kakashi around any dogs—ninken or otherwise—not in combat nor off the battlefield.  Had something happened to Kakashi’s pack?

Amongst the Inuzuka, it was considered a loss of part of one’s own self if their ninken companion somehow perished.  Many Inuzuka committed seppuku not long after.  Any injury to one’s ninken companion _at all_ was considered deeply shameful to the Inuzuka; the Inuzuka ninja were expected to protect their ninken with their own lives if it were to become necessary.  But even though Madara had never seen nor heard word of Kakashi working with ninken, let alone having his own pack like many Hatake did, it was obvious that Kakashi loved the animals. 

It gave Madara the craziest idea; should he procure a dog for Kakashi?

Madara’s eyes widened at the thought.  It was preposterous and presumptuous and probably a terrible idea.  Many who had once had animal companions—ninja or otherwise—did not want ‘replacements.’  Would it be seen as a faux pas, would it be received with pain instead of joy, was it even Madara’s place?  And was it not a copout to find something else to do the work to lighten Kakashi’s life, instead of Madara putting in the work himself? 

Madara wanted to put in the work himself.

Fucking hell.

‘ _Why am I like this_?’ Madara wondered, bemoaning his own possessive jealousy and his desire for Kakashi all at once.  Things would be so much simpler if that damned adopted Senju wasn’t in the picture.  Though, Izuna would be dead, who knows if the village would have even been formed, and Tobirama would probably be even more maddening than he was now.

‘ _The things I owe that man…’_

Was it so shameful to want Kakashi?  Was it really so horrible?  Kakashi’s merits far outweighed his failings.  This game where Madara pretended to barely tolerate Kakashi and worried for his own heart, like some sort of sappy bastard in a shitty romance novel, was _pathetic_.  This was about Kakashi.  About Kakashi finding happiness, joy—pleasure in life in general. 

‘ _It does not matter if Kakashi has feelings for me,’_ Madara vowed, ‘ _simply that Kakashi is happy.  My own feelings should have no part in this._ ’

Healing Kakashi’s Sharingan was one step, but that was now Tatsumi’s job.  Still, there was work to be done.  Madara had to prepare for his next mission to the Hatake Clan Compound, and see if he could think of any other ways he could somehow brighten Kakashi’s life. 

With his new mission at the forefront of his mind, Madara turned on his heel, leaving the Inuzuka compound without a word of goodbye in order to get started with his plans right away.

Madara was in such a hurry, he didn’t notice Kakashi’s shoulders slump at his abrupt exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uggghhhh this chapter man! This chapter was torture, you don’t even know. I had initially thought it was halfway done, back when I posted part one of Doubt(ful)—so wrong I was. I’d say it was more like a quarter finished. It was a combination of not getting things out the way I wanted them, and just… this chapter got away from me. Do you want to know what the prompt for this chapter was, finally?
> 
>  _“Kakashi cooing over puppies and Madara feeling strangely jealous but also thinking it’s adorable as fuck.”_ –anon
> 
> WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME, THAT THIS IS WHAT YOU GET??? There was like, way less cooing over adorable puppies than I planned, to start with. That whole middle section of the chapter I kind of hate but I didn’t know how else to get through that so here we are. World’s longest transition. 
> 
> I will say, I did like how it (and this chapter, really) showcases the shift in Madara’s mindset in 2sb1sf from canon!Madara. He’s still ruthless and bloodthirsty, but he’s got stronger bonds keeping him together, and so he doesn’t shy away from the power that can be found in making connections with others. Canon!Madara does his own thing, makes his own plans, and although he does team up, it’s only to use people, not for their value as humans. Even the Infinite Tsukuyomi plan doesn’t treat people as individuals, but as pawns. I don’t think Kakashi could fall in love with someone who doesn’t value bonds and people and the village, tbh. So it’s important, I feel, to establish that without all the pain and grief making Madara crazy, he can see the value in a more… humanitarian brand of power.
> 
>  **ON TO SOME GOOD NEWS!**  
> 
> If you're not following me on tumblr, then you've missed a few things that have happened in the past (seven! le gasp!) months: 
> 
> -[I've written out some info on Kakashi's outfit in 2sb1sf](https://purple-possibilities.tumblr.com/post/161788065084/kakashis-outfits-in-two-steps-back-one-step) if you don't want to follow the link, check out @ivegotpurple on tumblr and you should see it there.
> 
> As well, **I've written two pieces** that I haven't posted here. They're not related to the 2sb1sf-verse, but I should get around to posting them soonish. Easiest way to find them is @ivegotpurple on tumblr. They're called "Unplanned Confessions" and "Rules Never Meant a Thing."
> 
> There's been some **fanart!** Isn't that exciting? I'm so excited. You can check it out on my tumblr (either purple-possibilities or ivegotpurple) under the hashtag #2sb1sf fanart OR you can go through these links.
> 
> -[Kakashi in his 2sb1sf outfit](https://pinesterr.tumblr.com/post/166761573086/me-attempting-to-draw-kakashi-from)
> 
> -[Beginning of a comic feat Madara and Kakashi and how Kakashi got his armour](http://hiraeth-wings.tumblr.com/post/161863766891/snort-have-this-quick-sketch-aka-page-1-of)
> 
> -[An interpretation of the scene from (Un)Resolved Feelings where Madara examines Kakashi's eye](http://thetoxicstrawberry.tumblr.com/post/161026834009/no-not-you-madara-agrees-swiftly-standing)
> 
> -[An interpretation of what Tatsumi looks like](https://cassandrasdreamworld.tumblr.com/post/157547580628/so-uh-guess-surprise-purple-possibilities-i) my first piece of fanart... how have I not linked it yet???
> 
> I will be getting around to answering reviews now that this chapter is posted. Sorry for the long wait. As for what's coming next, I think I want to write up how Kakashi got sent to the past first, then a scene that takes place a few years after this (when Kakashi and Madara are already together) and then the next chapter of this.
> 
> I have such a love hate relationship with this chapter (leaning towards the hate, tbh although there are parts that I really like, which is the only reason why I’m posting this). So please let me know if you liked it! If not, well, sucks for all of us, this is as good as it’s gonna get, trust me.


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